When Writers Go Bad
by Shadow131
Summary: The Author goes insane and abducts characters from Les Mis, Phantom of the Opera, and the Scarlet Pimpernel. How will this effect the plot line, and will the charries ever get out?
1. Prologue

**When Writers Go Bad: Prologue**

**A.N.: I'm assuming everyone knows at least the basic (or at least musical version) plot lines of Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, and The Scarlet Pimpernel. If you don't, email me and I'll tell you everything you'll ever need to know and way more than you'll have ever wanted to know. Oh, and there is a difference between Shadow and Shadow13. Shadow13 is myself, Shadow is my character. The two are not to be confused.**

Once upon a time there was a woman named Baroness Emmuska Orczy, and she was the author of several books, not the least of which was one called The Scarlet Pimpernel. This story became so popular that several movies were made of it, including a very nice Broadway musical.

Once upon another time, there lived a man named Victor Hugo, who was a supremely talented writer, and wrote many books, including Les Miserables. His book was also a smash success, had several movie versions, and a musical.

And finally, on another time again, there was a man named Gaston Leroux, and he, too, wrote several books. Though this one wasn't popular in France, it was popular in the U.S. and it was called The Phantom of the Opera. In case you haven't noticed a pattern, it also had several movie versions as well as a musical.

And now, we start getting into the heart of the story:

Once upon a time there was a girl named Emily, and she grew up to be a rather odd teenager ( fifteen, to be precise). This was partly due to massive amounts of show tunes and classic literature, but that's not the point.

This girl, whom nicknamed herself Shadow13, had read all of these books before seeing the musical (except Les Miserables, which she saw then read) and was passionately in love with each.

To prove how mentally odd she was, she can be divided into three moods/personalities. They are as follows:

Shadow, the smart and mentally tortured one, Lita, the romantic, fiery tempered one, and Ellen, the odd, sugar high one.

Shadow13 was also a writer, and so, wrote herself her own story about her own castle on a cloud, and there locked herself away with her three alter egos to write fanfiction, original fiction, and work on a fantasy novel she hopes to one day finish. It was a very good life.

The castle's servants were all plot bunnies that had formed inside her brain to either develop, reject, or what have you.

Now, three of Emily's favorite books and fan fiction genres were – of course, Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, and The Scarlet Pimpernel. She read quite a bit of fanfiction in all three categories. Unfortunately, there are quite a few writers who do not like certain characters, and then proceed to bash their characters to bits and rip them to shreds until they are nothing like the original character to begin with.

One day, Shaodw13 simply could not stand it anymore, and that is when the evil plot bunny was born!

"Someone should protect them!" she raged at her three alter egos, who weren't listening, because they were playing "Extreme Pong," on one of the game consuls Shadow13 bought to shut them up.

"Uhhnnn....." Ellen responded brainlessly, trying to move her paddle to the right place. Shadow13 didn't notice they weren't listening, and continued her rant.

"Someone ought to write them a place where they can be happy, and have good endings, and never be smashed to pieces again!"

"Yeah, sure, that's great," said Lita carelessly, who smashed the little digital ball across the screen. Shadow was pretending to read a book, but had been drawn in to the game as well.

"You know what, I think I'll do that!"

Shadow, who was the only one who'd been vaguely listening to this tirade, raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I thought of the idea. Yes, yes! It'll be perfect!"

And suddenly, without anyone giving it a second glance, a plot bunny popped into the room, wiggling it's pink nose, and twitching an ear. Randomly appearing plot bunnies were a regular occurrence within the castle.

Shadow13 paid it no mind, and clapped her hands excitedly. "I'll get started on it right away!" she cried, and raced out of the room to her keyboard to begin typing. The plot bunny that had just been born followed her, which was another natural occurrence. Whenever Shadow13 wanted to write a story, she snatched a convenient plot bunny and tried to see if it was the one she was looking for.

Stretching, the three alter egos left the room to go and get something to drink.

"I have a feeling something bad is going to happen," Ellen said, eyes wide, glomping Lita's arm.

"Why?" Lita asked through gritted teeth, trying to get the leech like girl off.

"Because!" said Ellen, rolling her eyes. "Listen to the evil sounding music playing!"

Lita then turned to find one of the castle's music bunnies playing a violin in an evil sounding way. "Hey, you! Clear off!" she shouted, waving her arms at it. The music bunny looked rather miffed, but hopped away. "See? Nothing to worry about."

"Okay, miss I know everything pants-" Ellen began.

"Actually, that would be Shadow," Lita interrupted, right before Shadow whapped her upside the head.

"Don't make me sick my dog on you."

"I'll get my dragon first!"

Ellen waved her arms in the air to stop the two from fighting, which they did often. "Guys! What about the random and convenient thunder storm?"

"Well," explained Lita. "We _are_ in a castle on a cloud."

"Which really doesn't make sense, since a cloud of water vapor could never sustain something as heavy as-"

"Oh, shut up, Shadow, no one asked for your opinion anyway," Lita snapped. "I'm starving. Let's go get lunch!"

Shadow and Ellen looked at each other and shrugged, and because Ellen forgot things easily, the ominous music and random thunderstorm were cleared from her mind.

Now back to Shadow13 and the plot bunny:

Once inside the computer room, the door conveniently locked, so that only the plot bunny and Shadow13 were inside, _it_ happened.

The plot bunny morphed into a terrifying, huge (well, okay, not huge. Larger than normal bunny size) black bunny beast, which attacked Shadow13 as she sat down to type, and took possession of half her brain. It wasn't quite big enough to take control of all her brain, so she was prone to act completely normal, and then start randomly bashing her head against the wall, or some such thing.

Well, the plot bunny, being evil, twisted the idea that had spawned it and made Shadow13's reasonably okay idea evil and twisted and bad.

Cue ominous music.

**To Be Continued......**


	2. Chapter One

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter One**

The day had actually started out quite nice. Citoyen Armand Chauvelin had compiled enough evidence to have the Duke de Lyon arrested, and so he was whistling in a rather cheerful way. Twirling the key to his flat on one finger, he mounted the steps, when something rather odd happened.

The sky was rent asunder, and from it came down a massive gold dragon, a girl and two lumps riding on it's neck.

Well, to be perfectly honest, the sky hadn't exactly been "rent asunder." It kind of just opened up with absolutely no ceremony, so the author of this fic tossed in some ominous thunder, and a chorus of voices to make the moment a bit more dramatic.

If Citoyen Chauvelin had not been completely terrified out of his mind at that moment, he might have thought "Well, that is extremely odd." But, being terrified, he thought nothing, and stood there rather stupidly.

The gold dragon finally landed in the street a bit awkwardly, for she was a very big dragon, and it was a little street, and the girl slid off her neck. Flipping her hair back, she grabbed a bag she had on the dragon, and pulled out some rope and a rather large rock.

"Are you Chauvelin?" she asked, smiling. Chauvelin made an odd squeak noise and nodded. "Terribly sorry about this," she apologized, and chucked the rock at his head, which hit with a rather nasty sounding "Crack!" and knocked him out instantaneously. The girl then proceeded to tie her hostage up, and heave up onto the dragon's neck next to the other two lumps.

These two lumps were Sir Percy Blakeney and Lady Marguerite Blakeney, and Chauvelin would have undoubtedly had some horror at being rather rudely tossed next to his arch nemesis, but he was unconscious, so his opinion didn't matter.

The girl, Lita, then smoothly climbed back up the dragon's neck and patted it affectionately. "Up, Pridenth, m'love," she called lovingly, and the dragon rose into the air, and back into the sky.

...

"Look, I just need to- hey!"

Shadow was avoiding a book tossed at her head.

"Out, Satin!" the old man shouted, his eyes wild. "Heaven, help me! I have tried to be a good Christian man."

Not in the mood to dodge books, and now candelabras thrown at her, Shadow placed her hand on her hips and said, a bit sarcastically, "Yes, you've done a very nice job of it, too. Now, for the last time, I'm not Satin, my name is Shadow, and I just need you to be a good old man and get in the swirling vortex." Here, Shadow motioned to a rather frightening looking vortex-y thingy floating in mid air.

"So you can drag my soul to Hell? I think not! Oh, mercy, Lord, I did not know the Angel of Death was this terrifying!"

"If I'm an angel, wouldn't I be taking you to Heaven?" she tempted.

"Satin's still an angel, even if he is a fallen one!" the old man shouted, picking up a chair. Now Shadow's eyes widened.

"Aren't you supposed to be the insanely strong one?"

The old man didn't answer her question. Instead, he tried to bring the chair down on her head, but missed, colliding with her shoulder.

"Damn!" the girl shouted, pulling back and jumping on top of a bookshelf. "You must be." She now nursed her wound, glaring at the old man, who had collapsed into a chair by the fire place and was clutching at his heart. "No dying!" she ordered. "Shadow13 will kill me if you die."

Both heads turned as they heard the words "Papa, Papa, what's wrong?" In burst a young woman and a man only a few years older than she, holding hands, tears streaming down the girl's cheek. "What is the matter?"

Both were then taken aback at the sight of Shadow, sitting on a book shelf, and a rather odd grey swirling vortex in the air.

"Um.....hi?"

The girl then let out a terrified shriek, which took Shadow completely by surprise, knocking her off the book shelf, and onto the same wounded shoulder. "Damn!" she shouted again, muttering a string of curse words and clutching her arm.

The couple rushed over to the old man's side, and Shadow decided she'd had enough of this. "Look, I've been more than polite. I'm going to ask nicely once more; get into the swirling vortex, or suffer my wrath."

"Out, foul demon!" the old man shouted once more.

"Okay, buster, that did it." With that, Shadow jumped up and grabbed the vortex by a corner, she then dragged it over to the three and covered them with it as though it were a blanket, and they all instantly disappeared. She then hopped in herself, grumbling.

...

Crying, Christine dropped the plain gold ring into Erik's casket, his final resting place, his _Don Juan Triumphant_ clutched in his dead fingers. Raoul comforted her as best he could. Naturally, it was a solemn moment full of tears.

That's what made it all the more awkward of a moment for Ellen to show up.

"Hi!" she called rather sweetly, tugging at the string of her own swirling grey vortex. "Hi Mr. Viscomte guy! Hi Ms. Singing lady! Hi Mr. Phantom! Oh....." she added. "He doesn't look too healthy.

Christine looked up at the odd girl "What on earth?"

Raoul pulled Christine back and glared pointedly at the dead Angel of Music. "This is another one of his tricks, isn't it?"

"If it is," said Christine, clinging to Raoul, "It's one I've never seen."

With a grunt, Ellen set her large burlap bag down and carefully selected a rock. "No fair," she muttered. "Lita gets her dragon, and Shadow doesn't have to carry rocks, so I'm stuck with everything!" she then stuck her tongue out and closed one eye, aiming at Christine's head. "This'll only hurt for a second," she promised, and lobbed it at the opera singer.

Raoul, in a rather stupidly heroic way, dived in front of Christine, so the rock hit him instead, knocking him out.

"Hey, no need to be greedy!" Ellen called as Christine shrieked, her love falling to the floor with a rather painful thud. "I've got enough rocks for everybody." To prove this point, she pulled out the rock she had planned on using on Raoul, and lobbed it at Christine's head. She fell to the floor silently, and Ellen carefully dragged the pair into the vortex.

"Now, what to do with you?" she wondered aloud, looking down at the dead Phantom of the Opera. Finally, she shrugged, and grunting, pushed the body into the vortex as well, sliding in after it.


	3. Chapter Two

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Two**

Chief Inspector Javert awoke with a splitting headache, which he thought rather odd, for dead people did not generally have splitting headaches, or so he was led to believe. Nor did they generally wake up in cells with nine other people, sitting on straw without having the slightest idea as to why they were there.

Groaning, he ran a hand down his face, scrubbing at it and massaging it with his fingers. "I must be in Hell," he thought gloomily. He then turned to see a sleeping Jean Valjean next to him, and immediately jumped five feet back.

"Damn!" he shouted aloud, waking the other nine occupants of the rather spacious, straw covered cell. "I am in Hell!"

To his left, he saw a young couple awaking, the girl grabbing her lover's arm. "Raoul! Look! Erik's waking up!"

And to the left of them, indeed, a tall, masked man _was_ waking up, groaning as he did so.

"How is this possible?" shouted the boy that was obviously Raoul. The masked man, Erik, blinked.

"I'm not doing anything extraordinary, am I?" he asked rather sourly.

"But...but you were dead! I saw you!"

"Was I?" he asked rather surprised. He then poked himself in the ribs, and concluded that he was most certainly not dead. "Well, I'm not anymore."

Javert sighed. "Oh good. Than neither am I."

Valjean, sitting on the right of Javert, scooted away slightly, and closer to the man Javert recognized as Baron Pontmercy, and the woman that was presumably his wife, for they were clutched in each other's arms.

Sitting across the wall from these five were another three people; two men, and a woman. The woman sat between the two men, but her strawberry blonde head was leaning on the blonde man's shoulder, while the dark haired man had sort of slumped to the side.

"Should we wake them?" asked Erik to no one in particular.

"We might as well," responded Javert, who picked up a pebble and lobbed it at the trio. It hit the dark haired man's head, who groaned, and slowly opened his eyes, clutching at the rather large and nasty looking lump on his forehead.

"Ohh..... my head....." he moaned, and turned his head to see the woman and other man. This, apparently, startled him quite a bit, for he jumped back, and then saw the other occupants of the cell, and was surprised again. "Who on earth are all of you?" he demanded quite loudly, waking the pair up.

Erik, adjusting his mask, seemed quite miffed. "We could ask the same of you."

"Well, I asked first, so ha!"

"Let's not make a scene!" cried the blonde haired woman sitting near to Erik. "That's Erik, he's the Phantom of the Opera."

"The Phantom of the what?" asked the blonde man who was snuggled with the woman, waking up.

Erik looked rather dejected. "You mean you've never heard of me?"

"Certainly not, my good chap." The accent surprised them all.

"You're British?" asked the phantom.

"Indeed I am," he responded, gently waking the woman next to him. "I say, Margot, do get up, love. We are in a most peculiar situation."

Drowsily, the woman awoke, but was apparently not a morning person, for her eyes were glazed over, and she did not seem to fully comprehend what on earth was going on. "I don't seem to fully comprehend what on earth is going on."

"Yes, we know," the blonde woman spoke again. "The narrator just said that. I think we should get on with introductions. I am Viscomtess Christine de Chagny."

"And I suppose that would make you Viscomte de Chagny?" asked Baron Pontmercy.

"Oui," agreed the young man. "My name is Raoul, monsieur."

"Am I to guess," asked Javert, "that I am the highest ranking officer of France among us?"

"Well, I know I'm the only representative of England," said the blonde man. The dark hair man wanted to contest Javert's assumption.

"Not necessarily. Your name, Citoyen? I am Citoyen Chauvelin, chief agent of the Committee of Public Safety of the People's Republic of France."

"Le Republique?" asked an astounded Raoul. "But the Republic's been gone for nearly a century!"

Citoyen Chauvelin paled, and his companions grayed slightly. "W-what?" he stuttered.

Javert seemed surprised as well. "Not a century, only a few decades."

"You, monsieur, have your dates wrong then," responded the Angel of Music.

"Then who's date is right?" cried a frustrated Christine.

"I suggest," said Javert coldly, "that we all keep are heads about this thing and continue with the introductions. I am Chief Inspector Javert."

Jean Valjean was trying hard to calm down, seeing as it was his turn to speak, but was having a terrible time repressing memories from Toulon. "I a-am Monsieur Fauchelevent," he lied, going under his fake name. He'd planned on telling Cosette the truth that day, but, events being as they were, things didn't quite go that way.

"I am Baroness Pontmercy," said the young girl next to Valjean. "Monsieur Fauchelevent is my father. My name is Cosette."

"And I am her husband, Marius Pontmercy," said the dark haired youth, clutching his wife all the closer to him. "And you?" he asked of the three people who so "mistakenly," believed the time to be 1792.

"My name is Lady Marguerite Blakeney," said the strawberry blonde haired woman. "I would say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but being locked in a cell makes few things pleasurable."

"That's my clever wife," the blonde haired man said with extreme pride. "I am Sir Percy Blakeney, baronet."

"Well, now that we're all one big, happy family," said Chauvelin rather sarcastically, "does anyone know where we are?"

Groaning, Erik rose to look out the barred window, but saw only blue. "I haven't a clue."

"More importantly, does anyone know _when_ we are? I'm terribly confused!" cried Christine.

"And how do we get out of this odd place and time?" Raoul asked.

Javert glanced at the heavy wooden door, and stood, trying the handle. "Locked."

"Well, I don't know what you expected," snapped Cosette rather irritated, because cells tended to put her in a rather bad mood. "'Let's just abduct them from their homes in the middle of the night, stick them in a cell, and leave the door unlocked! What a marvelous joke it will be!' Really, let's be realistic!"

It was then that the door flew open, knocking into Javert with a thud, and sent him flying, landing sprawled out on the straw floor.

From the door, in marched a four girls, trailed by several bunnies. One, was wearing bandages on her head, and she had a few cuts on her face. Another was dressed completely in black and wore a black eye mask, irritated-ly clutching her cape. The third was in a red, flowing gown, and was buffing her nails in a rather bored manor, while the final one was carrying a large bag full of assorted candies, and popping another one into her mouth every few seconds.

The hands of the bandaged girl flew to her mouth in horror when she realized she'd given Javert a cut on his head. "Oh my goodness!" She then flew to his side and fluttered over him much like a bird, and spoke far too quickly for the whole conversation to be heard. "OhmygoshareyouokayIdidn'tmeantohityouAreyoubleedingHowmanyfingersamIholdingupOhdearohdearohdearI'msoterriblysorryThiswasn'tsupposedtohappenI'llhaveitreatedimmediately!"

As she said this, Javert rather impatiently, waved his arms in the air. "I'm fine, woman! Who on earth are you?"

Standing erect, the young girl bowed and grinned behind the bandages. "Why, I am Shadow13."

**To Be Continued.....**


	4. Chapter Three

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Three**

"What sort of a name is Shadow13?" demanded Le Fantom de l'Opera. The girl nudged at the straw with the toe of her shoe, blushing.

"A pen name," she muttered, embarrassed.

"I'm Lita," announced the girl who'd been buffing her nails. "It's a pleasure, I'm sure."

"I'm Ellen!" shouted the one stuffing sugar in her face. "That's Shadow!" she said, pointing at the girl dressed in black, who was angrily plucking at her glove. "And this," she announced, picking up a bunny, "is Steve!"

Shadow13 turned and gave the alter ego an odd look. "No, it's not. He's the plot bunny for my Les Miserables fic."

"And his name is Steve," added the sugar crazed teen.

"No," corrected the bandaged one again. "He doesn't have a name. He's just 'That one plot bunny for my Les Mis fic.'"

The girl seemed heart broken. "But I named him!"

Now it was Lita's turn to question. "Why?"

"Because!" she cried, snuggling the bunny. "He's just so cute! He deserved a name!"

"But why Steve?" asked Shadow13.

"Why not Steve?"

"Because Steve is as far from Les Miserables themed as it gets!"

Ellen looked up at her creator with large, puppy dog eyes. "But....but...but!"

"Oh fine!" she shouted, flustered. "Keep him, name him! I don't care!" She placed a hand to her bandaged temple and tried to compose herself. "Look, you've gotten me completely off track."

Ellen had ceased to listen. Instead, she was now cooing to "Steve," and ignorant of everyone else's existence.

"I'm sorry about the accommodations," said Shadow13 guiltily. "I really didn't mean for it to be like this. I had the plot bunnies cleaning up spare rooms in the castle. But they're such slow workers and demand two hour lunch breaks, so...." Here she drifted off to glare at several bunnies who'd congregated around her feet, looking up at her with a triumphant smirk on their bunny faces. "Stupid plot bunny union. Well, I didn't know where else to put you all, and I didn't want you to walk out the wrong door, and zip! Off the cloud, so I thought, why not put them in a cell?"

"But why all of us in one cell?" asked Christine.

"I only wrote one up. I didn't really think I'd ever use them....." It was then that Shadow13 finally realized something. Doing a double take, she noticed Erik sitting in his corner, plucking at his sleeve. She then angrily whirled on Ellen, who was so surprised that she dropped Steve, who fell to the floor with a thud. "What's he doing here?" she demanded.

Ellen looked carefully at the phantom. "Sitting."

"We can all see that, dear," sighed Lita, patting the girl's arm.

"I mean, why is he in my cell? I didn't want to abduct him!"

"You said to grab people that looked important."

"And you thought he looked important?"

Ellen shrugged, and pointed at Christine. "She was crying over him, so I guess so."

"That doesn't change the fact that he throws terrible temper tantrums while threatening to blow up an opera house, and that I hate him!"

"Hate's a rather strong word," whimpered Erik.

"You keep out of this!" she shouted, whirling on the phantom. "You nearly killed Raoul and the Persian, so I have every right to not like you very much!" She then drew from her pocket a pad of paper and a pencil, and was about to write something to the effect of "And then, unfortunately, a random piano fell from the ceiling and onto the Opera Ghost's head," when Shadow quickly snatched the pencil out of her creator's hand.

With a cry, Shadow13 lunged for it, flailing her arm at the stronger girl, who was holding her back at an arm's distance. "No maiming characters. It's in the book of respectable writing. And you made the pact, remember?"

Shadow13 looked away and mumbled something.

"I can't hear you," teased the black clad girl.

"I remember!" she shouted, grumbling. "But that doesn't change facts!"

"If you won't let other rabid fan girls hurt Raoul, you shouldn't be able to hurt Erik."

"But Raoul didn't nearly kill anyone!" she protested.

Erik coughed and muttered that he had shot at him in the dark on his balcony that night, but Shadow13 wasn't listening.

"Come on, Emily, let's hear the pact," tempted Lita, who could never resist seeing someone squirm.

"I solemnly swear not to maim a character simply because I don't like them whether this entails making them out of character in order to get a pairing I want, or to physically change them, or hurt them in any way," she grumbled, reaching forlornly for the mechanical pencil again.

"Very good," teased Lita, who patted her on the cheek. She quickly drew her hand back when Shadow13 visibly winced. Her eyes then blacked slightly.

"I don't feel very well. You guys take care of them and answer whatever questions they might have," she said, clutching at her head and stumbling out of the room.

A few of the confused characters would later swear they heard her shouting at someone as she walked down that hall, with words very similar to "Can't you wait until we at least get to a wall that isn't made of rock? Bashing my head against a table hurts badly enough!" They could then her a few terrible cracking sounds, and a muffled cry. But no one decided to mention anything to anyone. Better to keep such odd things to themselves.

"So....." started Shadow. "Any questions?"

"Yes," responded Raoul promptly. "Why are we here?"

"Good question!" said Lita, quickly answering before Shadow could open her mouth. "For years, your characters have been bashed and trashed in poorly written, or at least, ill conceived fanfictions. It's just plain hard to keep you all in character. Even the best of writers can screw it up. So, Shadow13 decided to protect you from bashers by abducting you and keeping you forever safe in this castle. It'll be as though you never even existed, and you can just be free to do whatever you want. Shadow13 will write whatever you want for you."

Javert gapped at the girls. "You can't do this!"

"On the contrary; we can. It's already been done," responded Shadow.

"But you can't just horde us your entire lives! Our stories are made for everyone to read, bashed or not!" cried Valjean. "This isn't right."

"Relax," soothed Ellen. "You'll like it here. You really will. It's loads of fun. This way, you can be protected forever."

"But what if we don't want to _be_ protected?" asked Cosette gloomily.

"You're taking away our basic right as human beings: the right of choice!"

"I'm afraid all your revolutionary friends are stuck back in your old time line, monsieur Pontmercy," responded Shadow coolly to Marius display of patriotism. "You're in a written castle. You will stay in a written castle. You will do what the creator of that written castle dictates. You'll come to enjoy yourselves, I'm quite sure."

"You can't do this!" Chauvelin piped in, starting the protesting afresh.

"I suggest you all settle down," advised Lita, taking the key from her belt and inserting it into the door, ushering the plot bunnies and two other egos out. "Your rooms will be ready shortly. Then you have time to clean up and get ready for dinner. We'll be back shortly."

With that, she closed the door, locking it, leaving the ten characters even more confused than ever.


	5. Chapter Four

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Four**

**A.N.: It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry guys, I've been busy, and been sidetracked by other ideas. That's the problem with plot bunnies. If I go into a tangent about the whole gun thing, remember this: It comes up again. Ah well, to continue:**

The black plot bunny looked anything but terrifying. It looked like all the other plot bunnies, except black, and slightly larger. It twitched it's nose in the exact same way as all the other plot bunnies, hopped in the exact same way as all the other bunnies, and had been created in the exact same way as all the other plot bunnies.

But, unlike the other plot bunnies, it seemed to be able to speak. Not aloud, you understand, but it seemed to have some odd telepathic connection with Shadow13, for she responded to whatever it was it must have said aloud.

Speaking of Shadow13, she was slumped over a table, most of the old bandages ripped off, or in shreds, as fresh blood oozed from fresh wounds.

"Why are you doing this?" she croaked, wincing and whimpering at the pain.

The plot bunny must have said something, for she responded with "But what do you have to gain by all of it?"

It must have given a very frightening answer, for the fifteen year old shivered, and looked like she might soon burst into tears. "I want you to go away. I don't want you to take control of my brain again. I want you to jump off the cloud and never come back. I never should have listened to you." With fresh resolutions in mind, she began to try and feebly stand. "I don't know what it is you want, but I won't let you have it! I'm going to send them all back to their books, do you hear me? I'm going to-"

Her fiery speech was cut short, for the plot bunny lunged at her, and, in some utterly unexplainable way, wiggled inside her ear(it doesn't have to make sense: It's all fantasy, after all), while she cried out in pain. Finally, it came to rest inside her skull, clutching the half of the brain that it had claimed, and she moaned and groaned, wishing she could make it leave.

"Alright," she cried, giving in. "Just no more! I don't want to bash my head into anymore walls!"

The plot bunny seemed to agree to this, for Shadow13 slumped into a chair and held her bleeding head in her bloodied hands. Banging a fist against the table, she shouted "Shadow! Bring me the bandages!"

…

"I really hate that thing," Shadow grumbled, scooping up some glittery, dusty substance and poured it into a small leather sack. "I really do."

"That thing," was the black plot bunny, which was more often than not their topic of discussion.

Lita rolled her eyes, picking up her scoop to pour more of the shinning dust into her pouch. "We all hate it. But it's not like there's anything we can _do_ about it."

Ellen was ignoring them, par usual, and singing merrily. "Hands, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes!"

Lita waded up one of the spare leather pouches and was about to chuck it at Ellen's head when Shadow grabbed her wrist.

"Both of you, knock it off! God, it's enough to drive a person insane."

"I'm already insane!" Ellen shouted with pride.

Changing the subject, Lita complained "I hate having to package the pairing dust! Last time it got into all of the creases in my dress, and when I took it off that night, got all over my bedroom. I swear, the plot bunnies were following me and sighing over me for a week! Have you ever had a bunny be your stalker?" she demanded. "It's creepy!"

The pairing dust, as Lita had called it, was in large piles covering the small cellar. There were shelves filled with leather pouches, and about two dozen scoops for scooping up such dust.

The dust came from plot bunnies who's fics were more fluff than anything else. These bunnies were generally pink, and very fuzzy, and Ellen loved them because they were so soft and cute. Eventually, the extreme saturation of fluff in their bodies ate away at whatever plot had been their, until there was no plot to speak of, just fluff. Needless to say, a plot bunny is not longer a plot bunny once all the plot is destroyed, and a bunny cannot survive if it is only fluff. These bunnies would then spontaneously combust, to become bunny dust, their fic ideas now gone. Since it was dust made of a fluff bunny, it still had romantic tendencies, so Shadow13 used it to control pairings in her fic. A little sprinkling, or, in large cases, an entire bag, and the characters were woven into whatever pairing she desired. Besides which, it was a great export, and she was becoming rich because fan fic authors bought the stuff.

The fluff bunnies were always herded into the cellar – a task which Ellen particularly enjoyed – and left there until they combusted, which usually happened within a day or two. The dust was then bagged.

It could also be used somewhat like a weapon, for Shadow13 had written up a special gun that was designed to hold the leather pouches filled with dust, much like a revolver holds cartridges. The gun was then fired at the selected people. It got the same results as sprinkling dust did, but was generally more effective, so you didn't have to use as much.

"Can't the plot bunnies do this?" Lita begged.

Ellen squealed. "Yeah! Could they, Shadow? Please? Then the plot bunnies can fall in love, and we can have little bunnies!"

"No," Shadow said flatly. "You'll have to take that up with Shadow13. Besides, the plot bunnies are busy cleaning the rooms up. There's no one else to do this." Sending a glare in Lita's direction – the two constantly fought – she added "And it wouldn't hurt you to be more of a help around here. Come on, keep scooping. Then we can take these to the storage closet and be done for the day."

"Shadow! Bring me the bandages!" shouted the voice of Shadow13 from out side the cellar, up in the great hall. Shadow cringed at the sound of her voice.

"Why do I always have to wrap her head up?" she complained.

"Because you're the 'prodigy,' out of the three of us, and the one with medical training," supplied Lita, sticking her tongue out. Shadow clenched a fist, and would have punched Lita's lights out were it not for the insistent call of "Shadow!"

"I'm coming!" she called back, before wheeling on the other two. "Absolutely no horseplay. When I get back, I want to see five bags of this stuff! Understand?"

"Yes, oh royal majesty," Lita replied sarcastically.

Ellen saluted. "Got it, boss!"

Shadow turned and left the room to go get the bandages, while Ellen contemplated how much trouble she'd be in if she decided to toss one of the already filled bags at Lita's head. She privately thought it would be funny to see Lita stalked by a bunny.

**To Be Continued….**

**Not much of a chapter, but I kinda like it. Mostly it's just a bunch of explaining, and Ego Humor. Ah well. More plotishness next time.**


	6. Answering Reviews for PrologueChapter Fo...

**When Writers Go Bad: Answering Reviews for Prologue-Chapter Four**

**A.N.: Okay, so now it's time to answer all of the wonderful reviews you've all sent me! This is all the reviews I got and compiled while writing Chapter Five. Ones submitted after this was already written were appreciated, but I'm not going to be answering them.**

**Prologue**

Argentine Rose: I do that during dramatic moments all the time

Mewt: That they do, Mewt, that they do. Rant away, dear. I find bashing more forgivable if pairings aren't ripped up in the process, but that's just me. Others are more strict

YoukoElfMaiden: Thanks! I hope it turns out good! I've only just recently thought up the ending, so I at least have some direction now.

Mlle. Verity: Thanks, I will!

LesMisLoony: Well, I find humor easier when I've got Shadow, Lita, and Ellen involved.

**Chapter One**

Mewt: Yes, I figured a rock would be the only way to take him down without a fight. snort Well, no more rocks as far as I can recall. Plenty of gun shooting, knife fighting, and sword dueling though! . Not that you're supposed to know that happens yet…..

Nebulia: That really sums up everything I do.

Favourite: Yes, as we shall all soon see, Shadow13 has occasionally grammar problems

Elyse3: guilty look Okay, I confess, "Happy Ending Stealers," inspired this fic. And just wanting an evil plot bunny for a villain was the reasoning behind the rest of it. However, this is mostly a morality thing, and I guess I'll give the moral away: Sometimes it's the people who want to do the greatest good that end up being the biggest evil. Shadow13 wants to help all the characters and keep them all happy, but she's really screwing everything up in the process.

Argentine Rose: Yes, it is a nice name, but I think there are a few too many Armands in France.

AmZ: sigh Yes, I spelled "Satin," wrong. It looked wrong at the time, but the computer wasn't picking it up, and I just really wanted to get through that chapter.

LesMisLoony: look of horror Me? Bash Raoul? Never!

**Chapter Two**

YoukoElfMaiden: If you're interested in knowing what the Scarlet Pimpernel and Phantom of the Opera are about, please, please, PLEASE e-mail me!!!!! I'm more than happy to tell you! Ask Mewt!

Mewt: Plotting? Who's plotting?

Elyse3: Yes, another grammatical error

Argentine Rose: Well, I'm a drama geek, and drama geeks need dramatic entrances. Or at least weird ones.

**Chapter Three**

Mewt: Yes, I screw up characters too. I think we all do as fanfic authors. It think the only way to keep a character IC is to be the one who created them. I'm sure Victor Hugo could read the most wonderfully written fanfic ever and go "What are they talking about? That's not what I meant at all!" I'd probably do it too.

YoukoElfMaiden: I know how you feel. At the end of my first year in high school, I slept for about a week. My excuse was that I needed to catch up on nine months worth of sleep.

Mlle. Verity: You can ask any of my friends: Erik bugs the hell out of me! I cannot comprehend why so many fan girls love and adore him. He's awful! I mean, I pity him and all, but an awful life is no excuse for trying to blow up the Paris Opera! I've tried strangling the book when he really bugs me, which I probably shouldn't have done since it was the library's copy….heh…sweat drop

Nebulia: Thanks!

LesMisLoony: How can one _not_ love Raoul? Him and Philippe! I was so upset when he ended up dying….sniff The book was never really clear whether it was Erik who killed him or someone else. It went on about the Siren killing Philippe, but Erik was the Siren! I'm so confused! holds head

**Chapter Four**

YoukoElfMaiden: Well, I knew I wanted there to be a reason for fluff dust, and I figured even _I_ couldn't use all of that stuff, so I _had_ to sell the surplus.

Mewt: patpat My head's not _really_ bleeding. It's just what The Evil Plot Bunny (who has yet to have a name. I think I might call him Rupert) uses to keep her somewhat under his control until he can effect his Master Plan. evil grin

Argentine Rose: I've always loved fiction, but my best friend got me hooked on fantasy two years ago. Ever since then, I've been in love with the stuff. I want to write fantasy when I grow up; I've already started a fantasy novel.

Mlle. Verity: Well, I do value my life, but I also value my large piles of money I'm getting from selling that stuff. Hmmm…. Money, life, money, life…… Priorities, priorities…..

…

**A.N.: I also thought people might be interested on where my ego's and such came from. This time I'll explain why I use them together. The next time I answer reviews, I'll start talking about how they came into being**

A while back (over a year ago) I was up late one night, typing, par usual, and skimming through the numerous plot bunnies in my head. For ages I'd wanted to do some sort of interview show; I love those things. And I knew which characters of mine I'd use – those three which represented me the most. Obviously, they were Shadow, Lita, and Ellen.

So, I sat down at my trusty computer and started typing. Next thing I knew, I had guest stars for my three egos to ask questions to. Then the camera man was added; Lita's brother, Jasom. And then Ellen created the theme song. This was how The The-Pointless-Interview-Show Show was born!

I'd posted it on , but it had taken it off the site. I fixed the problems and tried again. They found another excuse to take it off. Maybe it was the third or fourth time I'd tried fixing things to keep it up there that I finally gave up. One, I didn't want to get my account deleted, and two, it really didn't have much of an audience. It was really a good humor fic, and it only got better and better as time wore on. Episodes one through eight (there are now about thirteen, if I remember correctly) are all posted on my old fanfiction website, but have not yet been transferred to my new and much improved one, who's link is not up on my account yet because it is still under heavy, _heavy_ construction.

The fic featured Shadow and her obsessions with mutations, Lita and her beloved dragon (which switched from Shadowth to Pridenth around half way through. The reasoning to why will be explained when I explain Lita), and Ellen and her obsession with cows. Of course, it also had intense rivalry between Lita and Shadow, par usual, and all of Ellen's bouncy insanity.


	7. Chapter Five

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Five**

Lita grumbled as she yanked a plot bunny from off her ankle where it had attached itself, sighing happily. Damn, stupid things! She wondered how long it would take to get the fluff dust from out of the creases of her dress and the stuff that had fallen to the carpet in her bedroom.

"Why don't they follow you?" she whined to Shadow, who was busily cutting some straws.

"I'm more careful than you are; stuff doesn't get into my clothes," she said shortly, focusing intently.

Ellen was busy giggling and playing with a small, blue rubber ball with her favorite bunny, Steve, on the kitchen floor, while Lita kicked the bunnies away at every turn.

"Okay!" Shadow announced, wheeling on her companions. "We'll draw straws to see who takes who to what room."

Ellen saluted, and reluctantly put the rubber ball away, Steve's ears drooping disappointingly. "Roger!"

"Let's see….." began Shadow. "Shortest straw takes the nut jobs from 1792, middle straw takes the people from Les Mis, and the tall straw takes the people who are hanging out with The Phantom of the Opera. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, we got it already! Can we go now? Pridenth's going to get hungry! I haven't had the chance to feed her yet today!" Lita exclaimed.

"You can feed your dragon when we're done," Shadow promised, putting her hand out, which contained the three straws.

Carefully, Lita drew one out, and refused to look at it until the others got theirs. Ellen drew hers as well, humming merrily to herself, which left Shadow with hers. Nervously, she looked down into her hand and announced "Middle. I got Les Mis."

Lita followed suit with "Phantom, yes! I was afraid I was going to end up with that psycho who keeps on trying to knock down the door, and shouting 'Open in the name of the Republic!''"

Ellen stared, amazed. "Is that the password or something?"

Lita rolled her eyes, and replied, sarcastically "Oh sure, that's how all doors open around here! That and 'Open Sesame!'"

"Wow! Neat!" Ellen cried, and Shadow whapped Lita upside the head. "Moron! Now you've given her ideas!"

"You're the moron!"

"No, you are!"

"No, you are!"

"No, you are!"

"No, you are!"

The argument would have continued thusly for several minutes had Ellen not done what she always did when they fought (which was at least five times a day): Whine.

"Guys…." she complained. "Can we go now?"

Shadow cut off Lita, who was about to respond with the same remark as before, and answered "Of course, Ellen. Let's get going!"

…

"You're that demon from before!" Cosette cried as Shadow lead the four down the hall towards where the rooms were.

Sighing, she turned and replied "For the last time, I'm not a demon! I'm not even evil!"

"It's true!" called Ellen, who was leading her trio behind Shadow. "She fights crime and hates gun. Besides, she cries in movies. Evil people don't cry in movies."

Blushing furiously at Ellen's revealing of her soft spot for sappy movies, Shadow wheeled on her and shouted "You shut up!" before turning back and silently leading the other's down the hall. Lita was trying hard not to snicker behind her hand.

The odd procession was led through a large dinning hall, which was being cleaned and polished by numerous bunnies, and down another corridor until they came to a fork. "Let's see, how are we going to do this?" contemplated Shadow aloud. "I got it! Okay, Lita, you and Ellen watch the girls for a minute while I take the guys down their hall, I'll come back, take the girl's down theirs, and then Ellen and I will do the same for you. And so on, and so forth."

"Got it," agreed Lita.

Marius, however, was quickly protesting, tightly holding on to Cosette. "But…But I want to stay with Cosette!"

"Tough," replied Shadow with a shrug. "Guy's get one hall, girls get another."

"But we're married!"

"Take it up with Shadow13, I'm only the lackey." With that, she reached for her sword hilt; not her weapon of choice, but effective.

Marius reluctant released his beloved with a sigh. "Alright, I give up."

"I'm glad you see it my way," she said with a smile, motioning to Valjean, Marius, and Javert to follow her. Not knowing what else to do, they followed. A few minutes later, the cry "Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it!" could be heard echoing down the hall. Ellen peered down the dark corridor curiously, and Lita simply ignored it. Shadow then came back, in a bad mood from arguing with Baron Pontmercy.

"Right, Cosette, come on; I'll take you to your room," she sighed, flicking her cape behind her. Whimpering, Cosette nervously followed, and Shadow soon returned alone.

"Okay, Lita, it's your turn."

Lita sighed and asked Raoul and Erik to please come with her. Raoul reluctantly released Christine's hand, gazing at her longingly, before sighing and following Lita down the dark hall. She returned without incident and lead Christine down her hall.

Unlocking the door, Lita flipped the light switch, brightening the room. It looked much like your standard, modern day hotel room, complete with a mini-bar, as well as complimentary soap. Christine steeped in, plucking at her delicate glove. Finally, she turned and asked "Can't I please stay with Raoul?"

Lita was in the mood to be charitable, and said with extreme pity "I'm sorry, but rules are rules. Talk to Shadow13 at dinner tonight; She'll probably jump at the chance to make you happy."

"Thank you," Christine mournfully murmured, taking in the room.

"If you need anything, just use the phone. It goes down to the plot bunny desk, and they'll send whatever it is you want on up." Lita then pointed out the doors on either side of the wall that lead to the other rooms. "If you get lonely, just visit one of the other girls. Need anything else?"

Christine could think of nothing that could be granted by the girl, and replied no.

Finally, Lita walked back down the hall, giving Ellen her turn. To be different, she took Marguerite down first, and then came back for Percy and Chauvelin.

But after a quarter of an hour of waiting and waiting for Ellen to come back, Shadow and Lita began to get nervous.

"How about we flip for it?" suggested Lita. "Head I win, tails you loose."

Shadow rolled her eyes. "That must have taken you all day to come up with. We'll both go down and make sure she's alright. We probably shouldn't have let her go by herself in the first place."

Lita gave in, and they both walked down the hall.

When they reached Ellen, she was safe and sound, and Blakeney and Chauvelin were simply standing there rather boredly. Instead of using the key to unlock the door, Ellen had remembered what Lita had said: Doors opened with a password. For the past twenty minutes, Ellen had been shouting "Open in the name of the Republic!" and "Open Sesame," at the doors, with absolutely no luck.

Lita smacked her palm to her forehead while Shadow looked just about ready to kill her.

"This is all your fault, you know! You had to open your mouth, and give her stupid, ridiculous ideas!"

Lita would have replied had Shadow not held a hand up, silencing her. Taking her key, Shadow slid it into the lock and unlocked the door. "Sir Blakeney, your room," she groaned. "I'm terribly sorry about all this."

Sir Percy walked in silently, and Shadow set Ellen straight about the doors, telling her to open Chauvelin's room – and to use the key this time! Ellen did so, and the three walked smoothly back up the corridor, ready to relax until dinner.

**To Be Continued…..**


	8. Chapter Six

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Six**

Shadow13 watched her guests mournfully as they nibbled on their dinners. Most were slumped in their chairs, too depressed to sit straight. No one was saying anything, no one was looking at each other, and worst of all, no one seemed happy to have been "rescued," from the clutches of fan girls.

"You're all miserable, aren't you?" she asked, her eyes taking on the resemblance of a puppy's.

Erik looked up briefly, but said nothing. After all, he had the most right out of anyone to be miserable. Christine pushed her mushrooms around her plate with her fork, having no appetite. Watching his beloved suffer was too much for the young de Changy.

"Mademoiselle," Raoul begged of Shadow13, "please, let us go."

"I can't!" she protested. "Oh, you'd all be slaughtered like pigs down there!"

"Then leave us to protect ourselves," piped in the Chief Inspector.

"Protect yourselves?" she snapped. "You lot couldn't protect yourselves from an angry kitten, let alone a mob of angsty, hormonal teenagers that burst into loud, off key, _annoying_ versions of songs that you all are supposed to sing!"

"I don't sing, though!" protested Valjean.

"Papa can't carry a tune," explained Cosette, for Lita was staring at him in a most curious manner.

"Really, must we argue at the dinner table?" asked Lita, spearing a small, green vegetable of some sort. "It upsets the digestion."

"You can't protect yourselves," continued Shadow13, "and I think you need to face facts: You're all the creations of old, and in the case of the Phantom of the Opera and company, fat men who could do whatever they please to you, as could those fan girls. That's why I took you away; I'm protecting you!"

"Yes, so you can control us instead," glowered Marius.

"Um, excuse me," Shadow whimpered, raising her hand rather nervously. "But our guests from 1792 were created by a woman."

She was ignored, for, standing up angrily, Shadow13 declared "That is not what is in question here, Baron Pontmercy!"

"Well I'd dearly like to know exactly what it is we're supposed to be questioning, then," snapped Citoyen Chauvelin, tossing his napkin down on the table, quite fed up with the whole mess.

"Or," continued Marguerite Blakeney, who was seated between her husband and the accredited agent, "are we not supposed to question it at all, the way we didn't question our author's dictation of what went on in our lives?"

"I don't think any of you understand," protested the young author, sitting forlornly back down, slowly coming to the realization that not only did they out number her in all their points, but that they were extremely good ones at that.

"Please, mademoiselle," said Sir Percy, trying to silence the rather noisy party. "I think you do not fully understand the situation: You claim to be saving us from tyrannical dictators whom we've never met, when we've not been able to think and act for ourselves since the moment we arrived in this dreadful place. I don't know about anyone else, but having a rock lobbed at one's skull and then waking up in a cell does not seem like any sort of path to freedom to me."

He might have continued, had Shadow not fiercely motioned for him to shut up. Her creator was slumped over the table, head in her hands. Her complexion had lost all color to it, and a fierce migraine pounded in her head. It almost seemed to speak to her, and it conveyed only one, short word: _Out, out, out._

"Emily?" Shadow tentatively asked, not daring to touch her. Ellen, who'd been ignoring the whole thing, contentedly munching on a carrot, now sat up and took notice.

"What's the matter with her?" the other girl asked. Lita looked annoyed, not worried. She was sitting back in her chair, arms crossed over her breasts, glowering at everyone. Dinner was positively ruined.

Rising, Shadow13 managed to rest her head in one hand alone. Pointing toward the dark corridor where the characters slept, she snarled "Out."

Shadow, par usual, jumped at the simple command, ushering people from chairs. "You heard what she said, come on."

Thoroughly befuddled at the sudden turn in events – and moreover, not finished with his supper – the Phantom of the Opera managed to ask a very confused "What?"

"Out!" she shouted again. "All of you, get out, now! Go, get out of my sight!" This frightened even the rebellious Lita, and she sprang from her chair with Ellen close behind, quickly pushing and pulling all occupants of the hall out. The two egos followed at their heels, Shadow preparing to go as well. Emily had collapsed back into her chair, one hand holding her head, the other clutching her stomach. "No, Shadow! Shadow, you stay."

Reluctantly, Shadow gathered her cape around her shoulders, timidly coming nearer to her creator. "Yes, of course, whatever you want."

The girl moaned and groaned, curling into as tight a ball as possible, feeling sick to her stomach.

…

"Well, that was fun," Lita remarked sarcastically, taking a sip of the strawberry lemonade in her hand. She would have had it spiked, but she was underage, and the plot bunnies who ran the tavern were quite strict.

The One-Eared Hare, so the establishment was called, was packed to the brim with fluffy bunnies of various colors and sizes. Ellen was pouring over a book of karaoke songs, trying to decide what she liked best. Why rabbits needed a karaoke bar rather confused her, for whenever one did go up to sing something, no sound ever seemed to emit from it's mouth. The fellow plot bunnies obviously heard something, for they clapped with their ears, filling the place with a rather dull "whump," noise, sounding much like a pillow hitting a solid object.

"I didn't think so," disagreed Ellen, who still felt slightly traumatized by all the shouting.

"We'll just have to do it again sometime," continued the other girl, ignoring her. "Because, really, I have nothing better to do than to cart a bunch of lunatics from France around, and cater to a woman who's trying to bash her own skull in."

"That's right," piped in Shadow, taking a seat at the table. "You don't have anything better to do!"

"Shadow!" exclaimed Ellen in happy surprise. "I was thinking of singing Brown Eyed Girl, you wanna join?"

"Thank you, no," she responded, hailing down a bunny waiter and ordering a soda. "I don't feel much like singing."

Even Lita seemed worried now. "Was it bad?"

"My God, twice in one day!" Shadow nearly sobbed, much more frightened by the sudden sickness than actually mournful about it. "She's never done this much damage before. I kept on trying to hold her back while that…..that _thing_ that controls her just had her smash herself against the walls, against the table, anything solid." She lifted a sleeve, showing where a rather nasty looking bruise was forming. Lita covered her mouth in a mixture of disgust and horror. "So she tried smacking into me instead."

"My God….." Ellen whispered, shaking in her chair.

The soda arrived, and Shadow sipped at it nonchalantly. "That's hardly the worst of them, I assure you."

"My God!" Lita agreed.

"When she was done, she proceeded to vomit all over the dinning hall. The plot bunnies are still cleaning up the blood and the dinner."

"I feel like vomiting myself," whimpered Ellen.

"This is an outrage! It's disgusting! We have to do something about it!" Lita declared with passion.

"What do you suggest?" snapped Shadow. "Fight an enemy we've never seen? That we know nothing about?"

A mischievous glint caught in Lita's eye. "And why not? After all, the people sleeping in the castle tonight are supposed to be damnably clever."

"I don't like it," snarled Shadow. "It reeks of repercussions."

"We'll see."

"Lita? Tell me what you're thinking."

"We'll see," was all she said, taking another drink.

**To Be Continued….**


	9. Chapter Seven

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Seven**

Thunder clapped outside, and a heavy rain pounded against the windows of Viscomtess Christine de Chagny's bedroom. She'd been sitting on the edge of her bed, sniffling slightly as she took in her surrounding, when a knock came at the door. Rising, she left her white handkerchief upon the bed, unlocking the door and opening it. "Yes, hello?" she asked. But the hall way was empty, there wasn't a soul.

A rather annoyed cough by her feet alerted her to the presence of the person who had knocked. Well, really, the plot bunny who had knocked.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise, stepping back and out of the bunny's way. It had a tray balancing on it's long ears, a large bowl of steaming soup sitting on the tray. Her stomach grumbled, for she had never gotten to finish her dinner, and that had been nearly three quarters of an hour ago.

Carefully, the small rabbit gently hopped into the room, managing to get the tray onto the table. "Thank you very much." It held out an ear and glared rather rudely at her, expecting something. Confused, she just stood there for a moment, before she realized what it wanted. "Oh! Yes, of course, hold on!" Going to her dresser, she opened up her little purse and pressed a sous piece (she wasn't paying any attention to the mark of the coin, grabbing the first piece she found) onto the plot bunny's ear. Its scowl turned into a bright smile, and, quite satisfied with the tip, it hopped out the door, which Christine then closed, sadly listening to the click of the automatic locks, shutting her in her prison once more.

Christine was getting extremely tired of being abducted and locked up all the time.

Sighing, she settled into a chair with the soup, and had just raised the steaming spoonful to her lips when a large, metallic banging noise issued from the room next door to her's. She jumped, managing not to spill the soup in the bowl, but the spoonful landed on the side of her nightgown. Christine was beginning to think this was just not her night, and, rather annoyed, she set the soup back up on the table, and rose, going to the side door that led to the room from whence the racket came. She rapped on the door, and asked "Excuse me, but could you keep it down in there?"

Christine got no answer, and, to her surprise, instead, heard the locks clicking and the door was swung open. At the doorway, similarly dressed in night attire, was Marguerite Blakeney, who looked a combination of cross and tired.

"I'm sorry, I know you said something, but I can't hear you over the noise."

With the door open, the din that came from Lady Blakeney's room invaded Madame Chagny's as well. She struggled to hear what the other woman said, but had no luck.

"What?"

Unfortunately, Marguerite could not hear the response either. "What?"

"What?"

It would have continued thusly for several minutes had not Marguerite rolled her eyes and shut the door. The noise level dropped in some frequency, and was drowned out whenever thunder clapped outside.

"What on earth is going on in your room?" asked Christine.

"The heater's not working. I did as those girls said and used that odd little contraption on the desk – What did they call it? A tele…tete….oh, I don't know! In any case, I managed to tell those odd little rabbits what the matter was. So, someone came up. I tried explaining to them that simply banging on it with hammers probably wouldn't help, but, they don't talk, you see, and….well, that's really it."

Christine blinked, still slightly confused, but politely said "Oh."

And so, they stood there rather awkwardly for a moment.

"Um…would you like a chair?" Christine asked, pulling out the one she had been sitting in when the banging occurred.

"Oh, thank you." Marguerite sat down, and Christine sat on the bed, both still silent.

Finally, Christine broke the ice and said "I don't think we were quite properly introduced today." With that, she stood and curtsied. "Bonsoir, madame, my name is Christine de Chagny."

Marguerite did likewise. "Bonsoir, Madame de Chagny, I am Marguerite Blakeney."

"Um, this is probably the oddest question I've asked anyone before, but what time period did you say you were from?"

"It was 1792 when my husband and I left. How about yourself?"

"1881."

"My goodness!" exclaimed Lady Blakeney. "That's over a century. I never expected to be talking to someone so far away as then."

Christine was frankly just as fascinated with the concept. "You live during the French Revolution?"

Marguerite sighed. "Yes, though I wish I could say I did not. France has gone mad."

Christine pushed a stray lock of her blonde hair behind an ear and responded "I understand. I have quite a lot of experience with madmen."

"Do you?" Marguerite asked, leaning foreword in her chair. "Well, I'm always up for a bedtime story."

Christine was about to try and explain the strange case of the Phantom of the Opera to Madame Blakeney, when the door to the other room – the one not occupied by Marguerite – was flung open.

In the doorway stood Cosette Pontmercy, clinging to the blanket she'd brought from her own room, cowering at every new clap of thunder.

"Pardon moi, madams, but, you see, I can't stand thunder storms, and-" A particularly loud "boom," rang across the cloud, and Cosette yelped, nearly tackling Christine to the floor as she rushed into the room and grabbed the nearest living thing, clinging on for dear life.

"Can't….breath…." Christine whispered as the girl slowly began to squeeze the air out of her lungs, though entirely unintentionally. Marguerite managed in helping to get the terrified child off the soprano, and comforted the quivering woman as best she could.

"There, there, it's alright. It's just a bit of a loud noise."

"Yes," agreed Christine. "It's nothing compared to what's coming from Lady Blakeney's room."

Cosette then began to cry, gently dabbing at her eyes. "Marius always holds me when there's a thunder storm. Marius, I miss you!"

No doubt, the love struck pup in the other hallway was echoing similar words.

The display of affection put all in a rather darkened mood, each pining for their separate spouse, sighing and slumping as they sat.

"Well," began Christine, trying to right the situation. "We won't be able to sleep so long as those rabbits insist on using those hammers, so we might as well have a little soirée, hm? Try and sort through all this confusing mess and laugh about whatever stupid thing our husbands have done."

It appealed to all, and so, they sat and talked, and finally started feeling a little bit better. They continued the little party, giggling madly at stories they shared, or shivering or sobbing, depending, long into the night, until the plot bunnies finished "fixing," the heater.

They rapped at the door from Lady Blakeney's room to Christine's, and the later rose and answered. The bunnies, decked out in tool belts and caps, looked as though they had somehow started a flash fire, since more than a few were a little blackened. They bowed respectfully, the one who had knocked handed Christine a note, and they all promptly hopped out of the room.

Confused, Christine unfurled the slip of paper and read aloud: "'The demon heater has been abolished. All appliances in rebellion will be treated in the same manner.' What on earth does that mean?"

Nervously, Marguerite entered her room only to give a furious scream.

"They've beaten the thing to a bloody pulp! And it's as hot as a jungle in here! Those idiots!"

Timidly, the other two women poked their heads in the door. Indeed, the heater was quite the worse for wear. It had been dented so horrible that it no longer was a rectangular shape. Sheets of metal were coming off and wires were poking out. The poor thing was smoking, and it looked like one of the drapes had caught fire, though it had been extinguished.

Christine and Cosette looked at each other, and wisely shut the door, each returning to their respective rooms; the string of oaths that followed were far louder than the previous banging, and even the thunder was having competition.

**To Be Continued….**


	10. Chapter Eight

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Eight**

"There you go. Knock yourselves out."

The box for Monopoly™ hit the floor with a "whump," as Shadow recklessly dropped it, the literary hostages sitting in a circle around it. It was just after breakfast, which had gone surprisingly calmly, due to the fact that Shadow13 was not attending.

"Um…" Marguerite began slowly, "what is it?"

Unfortunately for all parties concerned, Ellen caught sight of the box.

"_Monopoly!_"

Lita quickly tackled the girl to the ground as she made a dash for the box.

"Oh, oh, can I play, can I? Please! Please Shadow, I promise to be extra good and I'll feed it and walk it and clean up after it, and-"

"Absolutely not," Shadow interrupted. "We have chores."

Ellen's eyes then grew watery and took on the resemblance of a puppy's. "But…but I want to be the shoe!"

"Tough. As long as Shadow13's gone, I want to use the time to make sure this place sparkles." She now rounded on the circle of rather confused men and women. "Which means I need all of you to sit quietly and play while we work."

"By the way," Lita asked, managing to distract Ellen – she of the short attention span – by shoving a rabbit into her arms, "where is Shadow13?"

"I told her she needed to take a break, so I sent her down to the cinema on earth. Now, as for all of you," she turned back to the others, who actually looked somewhat frightened of Shadow, who was glaring daggers. "When she gets back, you're all going to be very nice and quiet and not argue with her. She's been very sick lately, and has been working her butt off for all of you. Understand?" she snarled through clenched teeth.

"Yes, mummy," Percy whispered under his breath to Marguerite, who giggled.

"Good. Okay, you two, let's get to work."

The three left, reducing the room's number of occupants to ten.

"So…." began Sir Percy. "What exactly is it?"

Experimentally, Erik poked at it with his gloved hand, making sure it wasn't like any of the other weird stuff in this castle. Bravely, Christine removed the lid, and slowly took out the contents.

"It's a game of some sort," she said, picking up the rule packet. "Oh, it's all in English, I can't read it!"

Sir Percy reached across the circle and snatched it from her hand. "If you would be so kind. Thank you, madame." He coughed and held it at arms length before briefly flipping through the pages. He then began to read the rules aloud, and, eventually, they selected their pieces. Erik was the dog, Christine was the cannon, Raoul was the train, Javert declined to play, Valjean was the thimble, Cosette was the hat, Marius was the cowboy, Chauvelin also declined, Marguerite was the car, and that left Percy the iron. Finally, after much translation and confusion, the game commenced.

…

"I would like to purchase a hotel."

"But, Erik," protested Raoul, "the only property you have is a railroad."

"Precisely."

Javert blinked, confused. "But you can't put a hotel on a railway."

"Don't be silly, inspector, there are hotels by railways all of the time."

Valjean now scratched his head and snatched up the rule book, flipping through the pages, forgetting that he couldn't read it. "You can't do that, can you?"

The Phantom of the Opera was now starting to look rather annoyed and he rapped his gloved fingers impatiently against the floor, growling rather menacingly in his throat. Cosette sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, just let him have it!" she cried, tossing him the small, red, plastic object.

"It's just a game, Erik," grumbled Marius, crossing his arms and pouting, not quite happy that his wife had let him have his way.

"Will you all stop behaving like children?" demanded Citoyen Chauvelin, who was growing immensely tired of being herded from one place to the other and forced into idiotic games.

"It's my turn in any case," said Marguerite, snatching up the dice, ending the argument. She was just about to roll, when the doors to the castle slammed open and there was a terrible, angry cry of "YEARHG!" The doors had been knocked open with such force that more than a few of the pieces on the board jumped. The character's all went slightly bug eyed and stared in the direction the noise had come.

"Oh, you're back!" cried Shadow, racing into the hall way, trailed by Lita and Ellen.

"Of all the bloody nerve!" Shadow13 snarled, looking about ready to toss a chair. "They gave him sideburns!"

Lita, who was actually frightened into obedience, asked "Who?"

"The Phantom of the Opera! Who are they trying to turn him into, Javert?" snarled her creator, ripping off her coat and tossing it into the air. Shadow watched it fall and land on a plot bunny, who gave a rather surprised squeak.

"You know, I would have hung that up," she sighed.

"You let her see Phantom of the Opera?" hissed Lita to her partner.

"It was the only thing playing she was interested in."

"But you know how she gets when that story isn't followed exactly as the book depicted it! She'll be ranting for weeks!"

Shadow shrugged. "What could I do?"

"And that sword fight! Come on!" Shadow13 had completely ignored the ten people sitting in a circle, silently watching the scene, and was instead storming down a hallway. "I'm going to go type!"

Shadow followed at her heels like an obedient puppy. "Can I get you some food? Something to drink?" She insisted on these things as she followed her creator down the hall. Lita threw her arms into the air and sighed, knowing they were in store for a bad evening. Ellen, on the other hand, was shrieking.

"Haunted coat! Somebody kill it!"

The coat which had fallen on top of the bunny seemed to be moving of it's own free will, moving with short hops across the floor, struggling against the weight of the black coat. The characters now looked from the screaming girl, back down to the coat, and as it passed Javert, he lifted it up, revealing a trembling rabbit.

Ellen relaxed almost instantaneously. "Larry, what on earth were you doing dressed as a haunted coat?" she asked him.

"Larry," looked rather traumatized. She clucked her tongue and scooped him up. "Come on," she insisted, "we can go play some 'Extreme Pong!'" And so, skipping merrily, she left.

For a while, everyone just sat there, and stared. Finally, Sir Percy broke the silence with "Alright then……"

The silence then continued for several minutes, people looking around the hall; at the coat, at the hall where the strange girls had disappeared to, and back at the game board.

"So, um, it's my turn then, is it?" asked Marguerite

"I suppose so…." replied Christine, rather confused as to what had just happened.

Erik, however, gave a very satisfied "Ha! I know, I know!"

He stared at Javert for a several moments, who awkwardly inquired "Um…is there something on my nose?"

The Phantom of the Opera clapped his hands in satisfaction, and suavely asked Christine "Would you love me if I had sideburns?"

Christine blinked, rather put off by the question. "Well, I….uh…."

Raoul put an arm around Christine's waist and delicately dragged her closer to him, growling. "Mine….."

All watched this scene with a great deal of confusion and discomfort. "Right-o then….." Percy finally said, not liking how the afternoon was turning out. "Um, do you think we could finish the game?"

There were some murmured agreements of alright, glad to watch the awkward moment pass, and Marguerite rolled the dice. Erik, however, was now pouting as much as before.

**To Be Continued…..**


	11. Chapter Nine

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Nine**

**A.N.: In case anyone's interested, the goldfish named Peggy-Sue in this chapter is based off my real life goldfish of the same name.**

Unfortunately for Shadow, the game did not go nearly long enough for the three alter egos to finish their chores. Sighing, she pulled out plan b.

"Alright, Ellen, you take Erik, Chauvelin, Javert, and Marius."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lita protested. "Hold the phone! You can't give her four characters! She can barely handle a rabbit!"

"Marius is harmless," insisted Shadow.

"Hey!" Marius whined from the back of the crowd of characters who awaited their next torture. "I could be dangerous if I want to be, right? Anyone?"

"And the other three are harmless too?" continued Lita.

"Javert's not going to pull anything, Chauvelin will just pout, and Erik….."

"Yes, precisely," snapped Lita. "And Erik?"

"Look, I'm not going to kill anyone!" he insisted.

Marius was still not letting the harmless comment go. "I'm dangerous, aren't I, Cosette?"

She giggled and kissed him on the cheek. "Of course, dear. I tremble whenever I see you."

"This is coming from the guy who owns a torture chamber in his house and sleeps in a coffin," Lita replied to the Phantom of the Opera. Erik sputtered, not knowing how to argue that point.

"Well, yes, but….."

"Let it go," advised Raoul. Erik just pouted.

"Well, Ellen will be fine," Shadow finally decided, brushing it off. Lita tried to protest, but she was cut off when Shadow continued dolling out who got who. "Lita, you get Christine, Valjean, and Sir Percy."

"Which leaves you," Lita determined by process of elimination, "Raoul, Cosette, and Marguerite."

"Why can't I stay with Marius?" Cosette whined.

Shadow sighed, exasperated. "What are you, glued together?"

"If we were, could we stay together?"

Shadow rubbed her face, exhausted. "I'm not going to answer that. Alright, everyone, time to work; we have chores to do."

…

"Oh, you're all such chickens!" Lita accused, while her three charges stared rather bug eyed at their task.

Into a large wading pool, a huge, gold dragon had back-winged, staring at them all with curiosity, snuffing at them.

"She's not dangerous," insisted her rider, reaching out a hand to stroke her nose. "Are you, Pridenth? No, you're mommy's ickly sweety-kins."

Christine was starting to whimper, for, as though she were trying to smile, the dragon lifted her lips over her gums, revealing several rows of pointed, white teeth. Valjean patted her arm, though he was terrified as well. Blakeney was gathering up enough courage to ask "And you want us to do what?"

"She needs a bath," Lita replied, dumping the supplies at the water's edge.

"I'm not touching that beast," insisted Valjean. Lita looked horrified.

"Shut up! You'll hurt her feelings!"

…

If the others hated their task, it was nothing compared to how much Chauvelin, Javert, Marius, and Erik loathed theirs. In a small courtyard surrounded by flowers, there was a fountain, and in the fountain were several large goldfish. Ellen had dumped several buckets of chopped pieces of fish by the fountain, and started their task: feeding the live fish the dead ones.

"That's Pete, the one over there is Roberto, the white one's Sebastian," she introduced, pointing out the fish, who looked basically all the same. "There's Peggy-Sue, that one's Trevor….."

Sighing, the men selected chunks of fish and a spot on the side of the fountain to sit on. They then dangled the pieces in the water until a fish swam up and took it from them. The fish, however, were timid, and it could take ages before they actually grabbed the food. And there was a lot of piles of fish to go through until the task was done.

"It's starting to smell…." whined Javert in the afternoon sun, holding his nose as he dipped another piece into the water.

"Come on, that's right," Marius egged a fish on. "Come here. Just a little closer." Pushed to the point of frustration, he shouted "Take it, you stupid, ugly little sardine!" The sudden noise not only frightened his own fish away, but all the other's fish as well. Marius gave a nervous little laugh as three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him, all glaring.

"I swear," seethed Chauvelin, "if you shout one more time, I'm going to have you arrested, and kissed by la Guillotine!"

Frightened half to death, Marius turned and asked Javert "That's not legal, is it?"

"If it isn't, I'm going to overlook it."

Marius now whimpered, delicately dipping the fish back into the water, privately praying.

"Isn't this fun?" Ellen asked sunnily.

"Oh, yes," agreed the Angel of Music, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Because, you know, you've never lived until you've sat motionless and fed a goldfish named Pete."

"Now what on earth's the matter with you?" demanded Chauvelin of Marius, as he was suddenly staring with terror at a fish that was approaching the food.

"It's….looking…at…me…funny," he slowly responded.

"Is he always like this?" asked Erik of Javert.

"I would imagine so. I've only met him two or three times, mind you."

"Ah."

"NOOOOOO! IT'S GOING TO BITE MY ARM OFF!"

Marius leapt screaming from the fountain, clutching his hand. The fish that had selected the food had also nibbled Marius' finger, and he'd screamed in his terror. Once again, it startled all of the fish, who darted away. Once again, three sets of eyes turned to stare at him, while he just whimpered.

"That's it!" roared Chauvelin, jumping to tackle him. Surprised, Javert remained immobile for an instant before trying to drag the accredited agent off of the young man. Erik whistled innocently and scooted away while the three duked it out, Ellen shouting for help, not knowing what else to do.

…

"I leave you with Ellen for fifteen minutes, and you're already tearing each other apart!" seethed Shadow, attending to the three's medical needs inside. Javert had a rather nasty looking bruise on his cheek, Chauvelin had a bad lump on his head, and Marius was sporting a black eye.

"He started," Chauvelin accused, pointing at Marius.

"But the fish was huge!" protested the law student. "I swear, it tried to-"

"Enough!" shouted the girl, putting a bandage wherever it was needed, handing them all ice packs. "Boy, are you all going to get it come dinner time."

All, except Erik, who was privately cheering his good luck at not getting dragged into the fray, groaned.

**To Be Continued….**


	12. Answering Reviews for Chapter Five Chap...

**When Writers Go Bad: Answers for Reviews for Chapters Five through Nine**

**Chapter Five**

Mewt: And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we make a filler chapter

LesMisLoony: Huzzah indeed! snuggles Raoul

Argentine Rose: Well, really, they are rather odd….

Nebulia: O.O That would be cool! I want an ego that only speaks in song lyrics!

Elyse3: Thanks for the correction on Percy's title! That's always confused me, so that is extremely helpful! snugs

**Chapter Six**

LesMisLoony: I never thought of them being sister-bars….hm….

pokes self I feel alive….and I also feel hungry, and I don't think I would feel hungry if I were dead….

**Chapter Seven**

LesMisLoony: I'm probably both. Most certainly crazy

Argentine Rose: Thank you!

Youkoelf Maiden: Thank you again!

**Chapter Eight**

LesMisLoony: I actually doubt Raoul would growl, but I had to have some reaction from him, and sometimes the best comedy is overreaction, you know?

giggleElvisPhantom…I never thought of that.

Youkoelf Maiden: It had great cinematography. Other than that, I thought it pretty much sucked. The Phantom was nothing compared to Michael Crawford.

Bubonic Woodchuck: tackle glomps Oh my gosh, I love you! I subconsciously noticed the sideburns but thought nothing of it. I then really consciously noticed it during "Music of the Night," and my Les Miserables soaked brain thought "Javert!" Yes, his deformity wasn't terribly frightening, was it? I was hoping it would at least look a little skullish or something, but nooooo.

I lip synched through most of it and nearly started crying during "All I Ask of You." At the parts where they weren't singing but were supposed to be, I sang softly. And then sometimes I just couldn't help myself. I drove my parent's crazy . My friend Charlene wants me to see it with her now, and I do so only for the sake of quietly singing through the whole feature with her.

bows Thank you for the applause!

sobsNo! Philippe! But I heart him! curses luck at not abducting him as well

Nebulia: I was extremely proud of this chapter. In my opinion it was the funniest one to date.

**Chapter Nine**

Nebulia: pats both charries Really, I am terribly cruel. But you have to have a little fun with Marius, and I'm starting to get over my strong desire to try and strangle my book whenever Erik nearly kills Raoul.

LesMisLoony: Marius is just so adorably, disgustingly, stupidly cute!

**Well, as promised, here it is: A character sketch of Shadow**

Shadow was created about three years ago when I still had a driving passion/obsession with Batman. This has – obviously – tapered off since then, and I've moved on to bigger and better things. But Shadow has remained a constant theme throughout. She is the tiny little bit of my soul that is gothic. She is my "tortured self." Note I use the term lightly. Shadow is just a caricature of my really off days.

It started with an odd, but not unpleasant dream that I had, and the idea nagged at the back of my head until I started writing the fic down: Shadow had been abducted along with her mother as a tiny child. At the age of thirteen, she watched her as she was murdered by the man she hated most in the entire world. Shadow is a very screwed up little puppy.

I made her during a time when I was going through a really rough patch with my parents. There was not a day I was not pouring into my diary the latest argument we had had. It was a bad time for all parties concerned. Shadow represented how I felt (alone, defeated, dark, depressed), and what I wanted to be; Shadow is the kind of girl who is great at just about nearly everything she puts her mind to. She's good at math, good at science, adores literature, but really, that's about all she can cope with. She, like me, is not a social person. Generally, she does not play well with others (I have gotten much better than she has at this). She, like me, likes things and does things no one else likes or does. Specifically, she loves reading in class (and, like myself, does so frequently), she adores history. Unlike me, she excels in math and science. Probably more importantly, she can pick an argument, and _win _an argument. I lack the later trait. She's very much the headstrong boss that says "Shut up and do what I say." I'm very much like that. She cannot stand people whom she deems "stupid by their own choice." She snubs preppy, popular girls. She snarls at idiots. She has a temper, and often uses it.

Shadow, however, has some extreme faults: She is much like the San Andreas Fault. She is very rough and strong on the outside, but crack the surface and two things are likely to happen: She will either blow up in furry, or start sobbing. She's very susceptible to being caught up in an emotional flurry. She can keep her head in extreme situations, but when lives start going on the line she has a melt down (and yes, that will happen in this story.)

She is fiercely loyal (which explains why she sticks by Shadow13's side to the bitter end, but hates abducting the characters). She is quiet, she's shy. She is the kind of person who speaks softly, but carries a very, very large stick.

The The-Pointless-Interview-Show Show and When Writers Go Bad caricatures all three egos to an extremity. Shadow is no exception to the rule. She would have, under normal circumstances, lost her patience with this scheme long ago. However, she does not have a choice; after all, no matter what, she's still just a name on a computer screen, and I forever dictate what happens to that name.


	13. Chapter Ten

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Ten**

"Marius?" Shadow13 asked very softly, very calmly, "what happened to your eye?"

All at the table looked up suddenly from their food, and Marius felt several pairs of eyes boring into him.

"Not one word," Chauvelin hissed at him. "Or we're all dead."

Marius gulped, said nothing.

Shadow13 now began to grow annoyed. "Well?" she demanded, though still far more calm than she had been that morning. "What happened?"  
"I…uh….."

Shadow13 stopped bothering with the poor baron, who was frightened senseless. Instead, she rounded on Ellen. "What did you do this afternoon?" she inquired, seemingly merely out of curiosity, not out of suspecting something.

"I fed the fish!" Ellen stated proudly, puffing her chest out.

"Excellent!" her creator praised. "All by yourself?"

"No."

"No?"

"No, Erik, and Chauvelin, and Javert, and Marius helped me!"

Shadow13's features now narrowed. Shadow gulped in her chair, poking at the food on her plate.

"And what time did you feed the fish?"

Ellen thought very hard, but came up with nothing; she was walking happily and blindly into the trap. "I don't remember!"

"Was it after I came home?"

"Yes."

"Was Marius' eye like that after I came home?"

"Not until we fed the fish!" Ellen stated proudly; she liked knowing the answers, which was usually Shadow's job.

"Why not until then?" And still, the question was very innocently put forth.

"Because that's when they fought!"

Shadow13 burst from her chair now, her temper exploding much like a volcano. "They what?" she demanded, wheeling on Shadow.

"Well…..you see-" she futilely began.

Too late. Shadow13 had moved on to assaulting Erik. "What did you do to them?"

The Phantom of the Opera nearly fell out of his chair. "Me? I didn't touch them!"

Ellen only now realized her grave mistake, and was wildly trying to correct it. "No, Emily, he didn't hurt them! Roberto bit Marius' finger, and he yelled, so Chauvelin yelled at him, and they started hitting each other-"

"Actually," interceded Marius, "Chauvelin was the one doing the hitting."

"You traitor!" seethed the citoyen.

Ellen continued, ignoring them, only focusing on freeing the Angel of Music from harm. This, in turn, held Shadow13's attention, and she listened, enrapt; Ellen never, ever lied. She was too stupidly innocent for that. That is why Shadow13, against her better judgment, believed her. "-And then Javert tried to pull them apart and Erik just sort of scooted away, and then Shadow came out and stopped them, and….well….that was it….."

Slowly, Shadow13 sat back down in her chair, and said but one word: "Alright."

Shadow stared from Ellen, who still looked very upset, back to Shadow13, and said nothing. Dinner shortly ended, and the characters were sent back to their rooms.

…

"Ow! You stepped on my foot!"

"Will you all shut up?"

The corridor to the men's rooms was very dark. That is why Raoul, Valjean, Marius, and Chauvelin had, thus far, not been spotted by a passing plot bunny – one of many that roamed the halls. Valjean had managed to break the locks of his own bedroom door and moved on to his neighbor's. They had proved to be the other three listed above, and he was patiently working on Sir Percy Blakeney's door when Marius had accidentally trod on Raoul's foot. He had said nothing, allowing Citoyen Chauvelin to put the two, love sick puppies into order.

"Do you think we could just leave him in his room?" implored the accredited agent as the old man skillfully worked on trying to crack the door. He silently glared up at the man, and wouldn't have spoken, had he not remembered that the dark of the hall meant that Chauvelin could not see his glaring eyes.

"No," he responded, and Chauvelin sighed, letting the subject drop. "Ah!" he cried in success, backing away from the door, which was silently swinging open of it's own accord. In the doorway, Sir Percy had been patiently waiting.

"Lud, but I thought you'd never get it through with!"

"You could tell we were trying to open the door?" Marius asked, surprised.

"With all that noise you made? Of course, m'dear boy!"

About a half hour later, Erik and Javert had joined the band, and Raoul and Marius were now loudly whining that they wanted to be with their spouses. It was upsetting Erik no end, who, of course, also wanted to be with Christine, but hadn't the privilege, and just annoying everyone else. Chauvelin was glaring rather menacingly – not that any one could see him – and strongly resisting the urge to give Marius another black eye.

"Shut up!" seethed Javert. "With all the noise you two are making, their bound to hear us."

"I miss Cosette!"

"I miss Christine!"

They continued unperturbed until all felt like ripping their ears off.

"Alright, alright! We're going that way, we're going!" insisted Valjean, trying to placate them.

…

"Ow! You stepped on my foot!"

"Will you all shut up?"

The band of gentlemen had been joined by a trio of ladies, and success would seem to be very near, had not a few problems arisen:

One was that they had no idea where they were going. Another was that once they solved the previous quandary, they still didn't know how to get back home.

"I've found a door!" Valjean cried, silencing all. He then went to work trying to unlock it, a few whispered words and hushes occasionally joining the air. He unlocked this one far faster than the other ones; this one didn't have so many locks. They all filed into the dark room, clinging to each other.

"So, where are we now?" asked Marguerite, holding her husband's hand.

"I think I can answer that one."

A light clicked on; they were in the fluff dust storage room. Bags lay in small mountains, dust lay in piles. Shadow13 was sitting quite calmly in a chair, Shadow and Ellen standing next to her. Lita had turned on the light, and was remaining by the switch. In the writer's hand she carried a pistol.

"Now, what on earth are you all doing out of bed?"

**To Be Continued…..**


	14. Chapter Eleven

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Eleven**

For a moment, everyone just stared. Chauvelin started uttering oaths under his breath, Valjean was praying. Emily still sat demurely in her chair, a look of expectancy on her face.

"Who wants to tell me what their doing out of bed?" she asked, of both the characters and her own three egos. Lita had since moved from the light switch to her creator's side.

"Well, you see," began Cosette, "we, uh, were taking a walk."

They all were fish eyed and nodded furiously in agreement.

"An evening walk!" praised Shadow13. "What a splendid idea! But," here she paused, staring very hard, "how did you get out of your rooms?"

"It was the damndest thing," Marius replied. "You see, they were all….unlocked."

"Just swung right open!" agreed Chauvelin hastily.

"Really?"

They all nodded again.

"Shadow," the teenager summoned, "were the doors locked when I went to bed?"

Mournfully, Shadow softly replied "Yes, they were locked."

"So it would not seem entirely likely for them to unlock of their own accord, would it?"

"….No…."

"Well," Marguerite tried, "they were…..damaged! During the electric storm last night! Yes, that was it!"

Once again, they all nodded passionately.

Shadow13 turned to Shadow. "You didn't tell me there was any damage done to the lock system last night."

Shadow guiltily nudged at the ground with the toe of her boot. Sighing, she gave in and replied "There wasn't any damage."

"None at all?"

"Every bolt was perfect."

Shadow13 turned back to the literary characters, who now looked rather frightened, huddled in a mass heard, as she glared coldly. She handed the pistol to Shadow, rising from her chair. The girl blinked, staring at it.

"Shadow," her creator instructed, "create mass chaos."

With that, she walked past the characters and out the door, locking it behind her.

Shadow was holding the gun at arm's length, looking rather disgustedly at it. Everyone was trembling, staring at her. Shadow thrust the pistol into Lita's hands.

"Here, you do it," she said with a shudder.

"Me? Oh, no, absolutely not!" refused the DragonRider, shoving it back at Shadow, who only pushed it away again.

"I don't like guns…." She responded slowly, drawing away from it. "They make me edgy….."

"I'll do it!" announced Ellen, snatching the pistol from Lita before either of them could stop her.

"Ellen, no!" they both cried simultaneously; too late. Ellen, who's aim was terrible, had cocked the hammer and was about to fire it at someone's head when Lita managed to tackle her, sending her arms upward. The gun went off, firing the cartridge at the ceiling.

The pistol proved to be the one Shadow13 had designed for fluff dust, and the cartridge proved to merely be a bag of the previously mentioned dust. Upon hitting the ceiling, it exploded in a rather pretty way, sending clouds of dust down upon everyone. Shadow yelped and covered her face with her cape. Lita and Ellen managed to hide behind a pile of already filled bags and escape the onslaught.

The smoke cleared while fits of coughing could be heard. Ellen, had, indeed, done exactly as Shadow13 had asked; mass chaos was achieved.

Christine was draped over Javert in a rather suggestive way, Marguerite was clinging to Chauvelin's arm, and Percy was doing his damndest at wooing Cosette, who was in love with Erik. None of the gentlemen receiving the attention seemed pleased, except Erik, and Raoul and Marius were crying.

Shadow yelped, and stood there, too surprised to do anything. Lita smacked her palm to her forehead and groaned while Ellen looked rather proud.

"When you want mass chaos, you know who to call!" she stated confidently. Lita seized her by the shoulders and shook her rather violently.

"You idiot! How are we going to fix all this?"

Shadow managed to rip the two apart, and then went to work searching the shelves for a small, grey leather pouch.

"What are you just standing there for?" she demanded, tossing brown bag after brown bag in search of the grey one. "Help me find the anti-fluff dust!"

The anti-fluff bunnies generated around St. Valentine's Day, or whenever Shadow13 was in a particularly cynical mood. They were grey with yellow eyes, and very short hair. They often sneered, and were the least favorite of Ellen.

All the bags were tossed off the shelf, and still the grey one could not be found. In the mean time, the noise the confused characters were creating was deafening.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime!" Christine was sweetly singing to Javert, who looked extremely uncomfortable with her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Please, madame!" he insisted, trying to pry her off. Raoul was singing to her, clinging to her ankle as she tried to shake him off in turn.

"Anywhere you go, let me go too! Christine, that's all I ask of you!"

Marius and Cosette were both singing A Heart Full of Love, while Erik was actually rather pleased to have someone pinning for him for once, though Marius was heart broken.

Chauvelin had given up on trying to pry Marguerite from off his arm, sitting on the floor, head resting on his free hand, which was balled in a fist. Shadow decided that if they couldn't find the bag, they might as well break up the party. Lita was busily tugging at Lady Blakeney, while Citoyen Chauvelin was starting to snarl "Get her off my arm….."

"Look, I'm trying my best here!" she snapped. "Ellen, I swear, I'm going to kill you for this!"

"What did I do?" she whined, trying to separate Sir Percy and Cosette, the former trying to steal a kiss.

Finally, it was all too much for Shadow, who snapped loudly "All of you shut up and let go of each other right now!"

Blinking like fish, anyone attached to anyone else very slowly scooted away, if reluctantly. Shadow was seething.

"Very good," she complimented through clenched teeth, her fists twitching, a vein on her forehead sticking out rather pointedly. "Now, get in a line. We're taking you back to your rooms. We will solve this problem in the morning."

Everyone seemed heartily disappointed, except for Javert and Valjean, the former thankful that the opera singer was off him, the later glad that he hadn't even been entangled in the fiasco.

**To Be Continued….**


	15. Chapter Twelve

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Twelve**

Shadow had been up half the night searching the entire cloud for that one grey bag of anti-fluff dust. As it turned out, the plot bunnies had been using it for some sort of game they'd invented, and were more than a little miffed when Shadow took it. However, it was quite apparent that the stress and lack of sleep were getting to her. Every few moments she would start laughing, finding some private joke hilariously funny, and Lita would eye her nervously, backing away very slowly.

However, a quick nap made her ready to tackle the immense task before them. Since Christine tended to be very reasonable, they decided to start with her. Carefully, they entered the room, locking the door behind them, sitting in chairs across from Christine, who sat on the bed.

The first question out of her lips, to Shadow's disdain (she'd hoped she'd have improved overnight), was "Where's Javert? When can I see him?"

"Yeah, about that," Shadow began, opening the small grey bag. "You see, we feel that-" She didn't bother to finish the sentence. She just tossed the grey, sparkles dust in the opera singers eyes. She girl shook her head, surprised, and after a moment (long enough for the necessary amount to sink in) she rubbed her eyes.

"What on earth did you do that for?" she asked, brushing it off of her dress.

"Never mind that," insisted Lita. "Don't you want to fly to Raoul's arms and have some sort of romantic duet or something? Kiss on a rooftop? Anything?"

Christine blinked. "Raoul? Why on earth would I want to be with him?"

Shadow paled quite visibly. "Wh-what?" she stuttered.

"I'm in love with Inspector Javert," Madame de Chagny insisted.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no!" Shadow cried, taking a much larger handful and tossing it at Christine, who was now coughing. It ought to be working!

"Stop that!" she cried, trying to get the stuff out of her hair.

"You're in love with Raoul, you're in love with Raoul, you're in love with Raoul!" Shadow and Lita insisted/prayed.

"Why do you keep saying that? I'm not in love with Raoul! He's very sweet, but my heart belongs to one man alone!"

Ellen made a tentative guess. "Erik?"

Christine shuddered, a good sign, so far as Shadow was concerned. At least Shadow13 wouldn't pulverize them for making her fall in love with the Phantom of the Opera. "That monster? Never! Now, I insist that you unlock that door and let me fly to my love's embrace!"

"Raoul's embrace?" Shadow begged.

"For the last time, no!"

They all fell to the floor, crying out in despair. Christine ignored them, and told them, once again, who she was in love with.

"Javert!"

"You don't even live in the same decade! He's fifty two, and he's dead!" insisted Shadow. "You can't be in love with a fifty two year old dead man!"

"Yes I can!"

"Might I remind you," Lita tried, "that he takes snuff? Nasty habit, that snuff."

"I don't care! I think he's wonderful, and perfect, and-"

"And nuts!" Shadow cut her off. "He throws himself off a bridge, child! Do you want to love a man that relentlessly hunts down ex-cons and shows no mercy? That inadvertently kills prostitutes? That tosses himself off of a bridge?"

Christine ticked off the things Shadow had said on her fingers and responded in turn: "I'm sure the convict was a very terrible man. The prostitute's probably happier wherever she is. And he wouldn't throw himself off of a bridge if someone cared enough to stop him! And I do!" Time for an opportune song break: "All I want is freedom, a world with no more night. And him, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me!"

"Stop that!" Lita shouted. "You're only allowed to sing that song with Raoul!"

Christine angrily stamped her foot on the floor, starting to cry, throwing a temper tantrum. "I think you're all very mean! I don't want to sing with Raoul, I want to sing with Javert! Why are you trying to stop true love?"

"Because he's not your true love!"

"But he is, just ask him! We love each other!"

Lita now wheeled on Ellen once more. "Look what you've gotten us into! Do you know what's going to happen when Emily finds out that Christine doesn't love Raoul anymore?"

Ellen, frankly quite terrified, shook her head no and gulped.

"She's going to have Chauvelin guillotine us, that's what's going to happen! She's going to parade our heads around on a stick!"

"I don't want to be an Ellen-cicle!" Ellen sobbed, clinging to Christine's ankle. "Please, singing lady, love Mr. Viscomte guy again!"

"But I don't love him!"

Finally, grinding her teeth, Shadow pried Ellen off of Christine's ankle and dragged her two companions out of the room. "Daae, we'll fix you later. Now, stay here, and – don't you give me that puppy dog pout, young lady! You can just forget it! No fifty two year old inspectors for you!" With that, the alter ego slammed the door, leaving Christine to sob her heart out, flung across her bed.

…

The gentlemen of the cloud, for the most part, weren't throwing temper tantrums, and Shadow had them locked in the gaming room. Erik was whistling happy – he was a wonderful whistler – and clipping his nails in a very superior manner. Javert was skulking. Chauvelin was skulking. Marius and Raoul were sobbing inconsolably, whilst Valjean did his best to comfort them. Percy had always been, by far, the most level headed when it came to love, comparatively speaking. And by comparatively, I mean compared to Marius and Raoul. The oddest thing he'd ever done was kiss where his wife had just trod, and while that might be the sign of an unhealthy fetish, it was a guilty pleasure he had earned. But due to the "Fluff Dust Fiasco," as it had been named by the bunnies, even he was a little starry eyed and sigh-y, only not over his wife. That was the central problem.

"Christine! Christine! What will I do without you? I love you, Christine, come back to me!" Raoul pleaded, though his beloved could not hear him. Used Kleenexes and the boxes they'd come in were scattered all across the room. Erik ignored the common outburst, and did the other common thing: bragged.

"Hey," he said to no one in particular. "You know the dark haired one? She's in love with me!"

"Not now, Erik," sighed Valjean.

"Shut the hell up, already, Erik! No one cares! No one wants to hear it!" Chauvelin snapped. A dark cloud was hanging over the heads of both the officials of France.

"You don't even know her name!" Marius sobbed.

Erik, in the mood to give the knife a little twist, replied, "She's cute."

"Stop it!" sobbed Marius. "Her name is Cosette, and I love her, and she's my wife, and-"

"Oh, will you shut up, you pansy!" Javert snarled, covering his ears and sinking in his chair.

"-her favorite color is lavender, and-" Marius continued, unperturbed.

"Christine looks so pretty in lavender!" Raoul wailed.

"-she likes puppies, and enjoys chamber music, and-"

"Christine loves puppies!"

"-and she's funny when she's had too much to drink, and-"

"Christine's funny when….wait….no, she isn't….."

"-and I love her!"

"Nobody cares!" cried Chauvelin.

"She loves me!" Erik insisted.

"Everyone, stop pestering them!" pleaded Valjean.

"A heart full of love! A heart full of song! I'm-"

"An idiot who's neck I'm about to ring!" snarled Javert, starting from the chair. Marius made a frightened squeak and retreated behind Monsieur le Viscomte. They then continued sobbing.

"I miss her!"

It was going to be a long day.

**To Be Continued….**


	16. Chapter Thirteen

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Thirteen**

**A.N.: I must, most respectfully, dedicate this chapter to Elyse3. All of you who are praising my work (my work and praise? That's an oxy moron if I ever heard one): Have you read her stuff? Quite excellent work, and I implore you to read it. This is sort of in response to her desire to see Percy take a wee bit of anger out on poor Citoyen Chauvelin. At first, as far as I'd figured, the only thing I'd thought up of Percy being upset at Chauvelin for was from the "Fluff Dust Fiasco," of Marguerite hanging off of his arm and all that. But then, I had enough guys who's wives were inadvertently stolen away, so I had to sick him on Cosette. Elyse's idea appealed to me so much, that I just had to rack my brains for something. The following chapter includes what I came up with. I'm not sure if it's what she intended. Hell, I'm not even sure if it's what I intended, but here it is, all the same bows Enjoy!**

Shadow had discovered the problem with the anti-fluff dust, it being that it wasn't even anti-fluff dust at all. The bunnies had needed the bag to weigh more for their game, so they carefully dumped the dust into a jar and replaced it with flour. They still had the jar, and Shadow had greedily snatched up, cackling in a term that can only be described as "Mad genius."

Cosette was fully restored to normal, clinging to Marius every chance she got. Erik was pouting again. Marguerite was, for the most part, her normal self, but was very tipsy, and, occasionally, her eyes kept snapping in Chauvelin's direction. Percy was no longer pinning for Cosette, and was doing his best to remind Marguerite that they were married and loved each other very much. Christine, however, was still a problem; they'd given her what was left, but it hadn't been much. She occasionally would smile at Raoul, hold his hand, give him a tiny, chaste kiss, but she could more often than not be found with her arms around Javert. The inspector had been implored to simply put up with it for now; Shadow promised she'd fix it as soon as she could. Another cynic bunny was due to spontaneously combust any day now. Until then, he'd simply have to exhibit patience, and maybe indulge her a bit. Javert reluctantly indulged as much as he ever did, and constantly scowled.

However, after a few days, the cynic bunny still had not exploded. Shadow needed someone she knew she could trust to play chaperone until the matter was solved.

…

"Me?" asked Sir Percy, surprised.

"Please, sir," Shadow begged. "You have no idea how much respect I have for you, and how much this means to me! I have too much to do here to follow them everywhere. I don't trust Lita, and Ellen would screw it up somehow!"

"Mamzelle, I'm flattered, but I hardly think-"

Providence struck Shadow with an idea. "Do this for me and I'll let you see The Crystal Globe!" (A.N: cough Cliché cough cough)

"The what?"

"It's this ball Emily has hidden in one of the cellars. I can help you see your home and how it's doing without you! Please, please, please! I could get in so much trouble if she knew I'd let you see it, so you know it's a fair trade!"

Percy sighed. Well, he'd been rather bored with the inactivity of the past week, so he might as well be doing something.

"Fine," he agreed with a shrug. Shadow threw her arms around him, in ecstasies.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much! You have no idea what a help this is!"

…

For the past three days, everyone had been stuck inside; Rain. Water was over flowing in the gutters, the fountain was filled to the brim. Huge puddles were filling up every which way.

The castle needed a good airing out, and Shadow needed the characters out of the way. "Ellen, take some of them on a walk through the garden, okay?"

Ellen shrugged; she'd been driving everyone nuts lately. "Okay, but who should I take?"

"I don't care!" she cried, randomly pulling a couple of them and shoving them in Ellen's direction. "Just get them out of here, or I'll loose my mind!"

"Did you ever have it?" asked Lita, but she was ignored.

The make shift party consisted of Javert (Christine was locked in doors to keep her from following), Eric, and everyone from 1792. They were promptly herded out the door, and into the damp garden.

The garden was very lush, with rhododendrons starting to bloom, and climbing into very thick foliage, resembling something of a "rhododendron tree monster," and rivaling Sir Percy for height. And so, they walked, and walked, and Eric kept on looking nervously over his shoulder.

"Lud, man, what on earth is the matter?" Sir Percy finally asked, his arm linked with Marguerite's.

"I keep on thinking I hear someone following us," he grumbled, pausing to look in a flowering bush.

"It's probably just a rabbit," Marguerite said, brushing it off. It was at that moment when the party heard the sound of a gun going off. A cartridge of fluff dust found it's target right at the back of Marguerite's head, which knocked her straight into Chauvelin, who toppled to the ground. Javert was already running in the direction the sound had come from, as was Sir Percy, and Ellen was trying to keep up. Realizing what that cartridge was, Eric knew he wanted to be no where near a love struck woman when she woke up, for fear of her six foot something husband. He quickly dashed into the brush after the other three.

And that left Chauvelin with Marguerite, the former having a rather large lump on his head for smacking into the pavement. Thusly it took him a few moments to understand what had just happened, and to take in his surroundings. Actually, his surroundings were Marguerite, who had glued herself to him, rather large, fake looking pink hearts stuck in her eyes.

"How can you even see anything like that?" he grumbled, trying to pry her off. Naturally, it did nothing, as she was even worse than she had been in the fluff dust storage room.

And because luck seemed to hate him, Sir Percy, breathless from the run was the first to return. "Well," he began, "they got away, but the Inspector's still-" He paused mid-sentence, and sort of had a tic in his cheek at the rather suggestive image in front of him.

"Um…I know what this looks like, but I can explain!" the agent hurriedly began.

THWACK!

…

Lita sat sprawled on a chair, reading up on "The Care and Keeping of Dragons," when the door burst open. Ellen waltzed in, followed by Javert and Eric, who were followed by "those nut jobs from 1792." Chauvelin was stalking in front of Sir Percy, one hand over an eye that was quickly turning black. Behind him stomped Percy, carrying Marguerite. All three were scowling for various reasons: Chauvelin had a black eye, Marguerite did not want to be carried, and Percy was simply having an off week, romance wise. She watched this odd parade absolutely silently, glancing up from the book.

They passed Raoul and Marius, who where engaged in a game of checkers. "What on earth happened to you?" the later asked, and Chauvelin delivered some choice obscenities not fit for repetition.

Lita sighed, shook her head, and called simply "Shadow, get the bandages!"

**To Be Continued….**


	17. Chapter Fourteen

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Fourteen**

**A.N.: This is based off someone in my English class who actually looked up "Pimp," on google image search once. Needless to say, the results were rather….highly rated.**

"Okay, fair's fair, I played your game, now let me see this Crystal whatever," Blakeney demanded the next evening.

Shadow reluctantly agreed, and snuck him out of his room after dinner, and toward the cellars. It resembled something like the Paris Opera House underground, with the notable exception that there wasn't a crazed musical genius living in it. A rat scurried by occasionally, and Shadow's torch only dimly lit the wet walls. Finally, after several flights of stairs, they reached the door she'd been searching for, and she took the key from her pocket, unlocking the door.

The carefully opened it up, the hinges squeaking their protests. She lit a few candles with the torch before sliding it into a holder on the wall, and blowing dust from off a small, round table, covered with a burgundy cloth. A bulge in the center of the table pointed out the object in question, and Shadow whisked away the dust cover with a flick of her wrists, causing more dust to rise. After the pair had their brief moment of coughing, Shadow began to pet the large, glass ball, which slowly began to light up.

"Globy," she whispered softly. "Come on, Globy, wake up!"

Finally, it began to glow in full force, and, though it lacked lips, it whispered "Sha…..dow?"

"This," she said to Sir Percy, "is Globy. If he seems a little over enthusiastic, that's just because he doesn't get many visitors."

"But why?"

"Cause," she whispered. "He's the most annoying thing on the face of the planet."

"Shadow!" it cried, the light pulsating it its joy. "Globy…not….see…for….long…time…"

"Globy, this is my friend, Sir Percy Blakeney." Percy bowed respectfully.

"How do?"

"Blake…..ney?"

"He's the Scarlet Pimpernel." It hummed, as though trying to process who that was. "Globy," Shadow continued, "Percy wants to see his home. Can you show him that? It's in Richmond, England."

"Riiiiiich...mond…." it whistled, and began to purr, searching through itself to try and find what Shadow wanted.

"Where on earth did you find this thing?" Blakeney asked, leaning in closer, curious.

"Ebay."

"What?"

Shadow's explanation was interrupted by Globy who wailed sadly "Cannot find….Richmond…..Globy failure!"

Shadow smacked her palm to her forehead and sighed. "It wasn't worth the money spent. It's really very useless."

"Globy wish he was dead!"

"Oh, do stop making that racket!" she cried, exasperated. "Here, try this: The Scarlet Pimpernel. Can you do that, Globy?"

It sniffed. "……Pimp?..." It began to purr again as Shadow fiddled with the dust cover.

"The dratted thing's like a google image search on a slow modem." Sir Percy stared blankly at her, the entire last sentence having gone completely over his head. Shadow looked down at Globy as he announced, proudly, he'd found something, and with a cry, she quickly covered him back up again. "Globy, that is not a polite image!"

Globy began to wail again. "Globy failure!"

Shadow's fist clenched, and she sighed. "No, it's fine, it's not your fault. Just….just try again."

After several more minutes of waiting, Globy announced the results of his final attempt. This time he struck gold; well, sorta, anyway.

"You see," explained Shadow "This is the way things are now, as though you, Marguerite, and Chauvelin, had never been born."

Armand was walking around the streets of Paris in a rather depressed manner. Louis was the most famous actress in France, but that was the only improvement. Cart loads of people were being slaughtered by La Guillotine, only France was more of a mess than usual. Well, after all, Chauvelin wasn't there to keep it in some form of order, the term applied loosely.

Shadow noted sadly that the find seemed more to depress him than anything else, and she slowly covered Globy back up again, and patted his smooth surface. "I'll see you soon, okay, Globy? Goodnight."

It was at that moment that the figure hiding behind the door fell, causing the door to swing into the room and bang against the door. Sheepishly, Raoul stood and brushed the dust from his trousers.

"Raoul de Chagny!" Shadow cried angrily. "Haven't you learned your lesson about listening behind doors?"

He shrugged and gave an awkward laugh. "Apparently not."

Shadow sighed. "Okay, let's just get you back to bed."

"But….." he protested, looking crestfallen.

"Oh…..you want to see home too?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

Shadow shrugged, in the mood to be charitable, and ushered him into the room, swiping the dust cover off Globy.

"All right, but then that's it."

"Wait!"

Yet another figure burst through the door: Marius.

"What on earth…?"

"He….kinda followed me," admitted Raoul.

Shadow smacked her head against her palm and sighed. "Okay, you can both look, but you had better not tell a single soul about this, or I'm going to kill you both!"

"We won't, we promise!" begged Raoul. "Now please…can I see?"

Shadow pushed him closer to the glowing glass ball, and gave Globy the proper instructions.

The imaged shown was of Le Comte Philip de Changy, who was looking very depressed, but alive, inside his opera box. La Carlotta was the star, and La Sorelli was still a superb dancer, but Raoul's heartstrings were tugged by his sad older brother's expression.

For Marius, the first image seen was that of Les Amis de l'ABC, who, all except Courfeyrac, who did seem a little sullen, were going on much as usual.

"They don't even miss me!" he cried angrily.

"Well, it's not like you went to a lot of the meetings," explained Shadow.

As for his father, he was still alive, and living happily, if poorly, with his wife. His grandfather, Monsieur Gillenormad, however, was quite depressed.

"That's all for tonight," insisted Shadow, covering an exhausted Globy up, and giving him a "good job," pat. "Come on, everyone, back to bed." Silently, she ushered them out of the room and up the damp steps.

…

A black figure crawled down those self same steps not an hour later, navigating expertly in the pitch black. They reached the door of the Crystal Globe and took out a key chain, which rattled slightly. Silently, they slid it into the lock, and opened the door, which creaked mournfully.

Carefully, the stepped into the room, and a trembling hand reached for the dust cover. Finally, they whisked it off, causing the surprised Globy to flicker and yawn into life. They rubbed at the glowing surface with one hand softly while they bent low and whispered words in hushed tones.

"Globy….will do….Master."

"Good," it purred, giving the glass ball a pat, before replacing the cover, and creeping noiselessly back out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

**To Be Continued….**


	18. Answering Reviews for Chapter Ten Throug...

**When Writers Go Bad: Answering Reviews for Chapters Ten-Fourteen**

Chapter Ten:

LesMisLoony: I wouldn't shed any tears over Marius. Raoul, however….

Elyse3: Percy's distinct lack of love-sickness does, indeed, make him a character to worship. And he's just so clever, and smart, and funny, and- Well, we already _know_ all that, so now I'm just being repetitive…..

Youkoelfmaiden: I love you too, in a strictly platonic way.

Nebulia: Ellen is a lot of fun. She was created when…. Well, I'm getting ahead of myself, here. You'll just have to wait until the next time I answer reviews to find out about Ellen.

Chapter Eleven:

LesMisLoony: Thank you

Elyse3: Actually, something of the sort is going to come up in the next one or two chapters, only more vise versa. Gr! Grammar demons! I am, however, getting better at my contractions. My "there,"s, however……

Chapter Twelve:

Elyse3: Actually, yes – I mean!... . …..

Cookie-crazy: Nope, no more. evil grin I'm sadistic like that.

LesMisLoony: grin I had a lot of fun with that part

Argentine Rose: Truly, some questions should never be answered.

Nebulia: THE PAIRING FROM HELL! Insert maniacal laughter here

Chapter Thirteen:

Bubonic Woodchuck: Yes, I think I was very tired….My sincerest apologies, it shall not happen again.

Eponine: Erm….

While I am very flattered that you like the story, I think you are missing it's point entirely. Okay, let's start at the very beginning (a very good place to start): Why should Cosette get bashed? And I'd like specific reasons, not just "She's a ditz," "She's evil," "She stole Marius from Eponine," etc. She liked clothes, I'm not about to say she didn't. Maybe she was a little preppy, true, but she never showed any sign of ditzy-ness, nor could she steal Marius from Eponine when he wasn't even Eponine's to begin with. After all, Eponine was the crazy one who wanted Marius to die if she couldn't have him.

I'm sorry, but did you just miss the entire point that I'm trying to get across (besides humor)?

PLEASE, SOMEONE TELL ME I DIDN'T FAIL AND THAT THEY ALSO GOT THE POINT I'M TRYING TO GET ACROSS!

Go back to the beginning chapters and read the "Pledge of Respectable Writing," I beg you!

EyeoftheHawk: Thank you! I doubt that Javert fluff will happen anytime soon, but I'll toss it over in my brain.

Elyse3: Well, I'm glad I could flatter you. After all, anyone who loves Les Mis, Pimpernel, Phantom, and Pride and Prejudice is not only the single coolest person in the galaxy, but is also…um….I got nothing.

LesMisLoony: Yeah, I think we all saw that coming.

Nebulia: Yes, book-wise, there never was any Chauvelin/Marguerite romance, which, in my opinion, is a good thing, because, in the book, he is one of the single most evil characters it has ever been my fortune to read about, and I really, really, _really _wanna hit him…..foams at the mouth

Youkoelfmaiden: No, don't worry about that. You're not supposed to know yet. I'd explain a little, but it would give it all away.

Eponine: I'm not evil (fortunately or unfortunately, take it as you will) and I don't hate anyone (save Erik)! I just don't get why people try and rip cannon pairings apart! Cosette and Marius were always quite a respected couple in my mind, even before I read the book.

**A.N.: Well, this time I'm explaining a girl who really needs explaining: Lita. Let's give it a shot, shall we?**

Around three years ago, my best friend Charlene introduced me to one of the single best book series of all time: The DragonRiders of Pern by Anne McCafferey. I'd never been a big dragon person, or even fantasy person, for that matter, and it was those books that started it all. So, she also introduced me into the fabulous world of role-playing, and I created my own character, Lita. Lita's gone through several drafts. Originally, she was created for fic purposes, as the daughter of Lessa and F'lar that never was supposed to be born due to her mother's lack of fertility. I'm not going to go into detail about the basic idea of that fic, as it was never written due to McCafferey's dislike of fanfiction. So, Lita has grown and developed based on the rping that I've done over the last several years. Especially over the last year, because of my own Weyr that I created. It's quite successful, if I may toot my own horn, and if anyone is interested, please e-mail me for the URL.

Originally, Lita was romantic, fiery tempered, and, no matter where I went, always Impressed a Gold, or not at all. I never have figured out why, it's just the way things happened. She was just destined to be a high ranking Weyrwoman.

Cannon Lita is quite different than the Lita portrayed in "The The-Pointless-Interview-Show Show," and "When Writers Go Bad." Cannon Lita, as based upon this last year, goes as follows (though why you would be interested is beyond me): She's the eldest daughter of Holders Lorsam and Jeppa, who breed some of the finest Runners anywhere. As a result, she adores horses. She is the eldest of four, with her brother Jasom, her sister Leera, and her youngest brother Jiton.

At the first Weyr I created, she was the Rider of Black Shadowth, but as time progressed and I moved on to bigger and better things, Shadowth, who was originally conceived with the fic idea, was dropped to the sidelines. In favor of? More traditional Golden Pridenth, who appears in this fic a few times.

Cannon Lita (again, based off her latest usage) is pretty emotionally unstable. Her first Weyrmate abused her, and then was – thankfully – eaten by Thread. Her next left without a word, only to return after her third Flight. This guy left her, too, and it is only now that she is finding stability with a rather unconventional pairing: BrownRider K'tran. Now she's pregnant, which is only making things harder for her. Her younger brother, Jasom, Impressed a Brown only to be accidentally killed (partially her fault) during Thread Fall. Her sister tried to usurp power from her and take over the Weyr – twice – and attempted to murder her during her latest Flight. Her younger brother's not much different, but he's still pretty young yet, so there are no problems there. She's very "Leave me alone, I know how to take care of myself." She's careful not to forge too strong an emotional attachment as it always comes back to bite her later.

Now, onto "TPIS," and "WWGB," Lita. Can you say "polar opposite?"

Lita's romantic. She's very much the sappy side of me, but she's also the snappy side of me. I don't know why she doesn't get along with Shadow. It just happened like that. She doesn't listen to what people tell her, she walks to the beat of her own drum. And she absolutely pours affection out on her dragon, but they both do that. If Shadow is as gothic as I get, Lita's as preppy as I get. But neither really fit the category.

Strangely enough, she's fond of Margaritas.

I don't think there's really much else to tell you about her. I think you yourselves can do a better analysis of her character by just reading about her than I can give you. I just hope you're all enjoying the fic, and come back to read more.


	19. Chapter Fifteen

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Fifteen**

"For God's sake, turn it off!"

"Please, show some compassion!"

Bunnies that roamed the halls had cotton stuffed in their ears. Literary characters were banging their heads against the wall. Ellen was even more crazy than usual, and Shadow and Lita snapped at anyone or anything. Which leads the reader to believe the unthinkable has happened:

That's right. For the last twenty four hours, show tunes had been blasting through the entire castle.

It had happened around five A.M. the night that Shadow had taken Sir Percy to see Globy. Suddenly, the music started, full blast, and had not stopped once since then. If you went down into the castle's cellar, that's where it got strongest, and Shadow had finally deemed that it was coming from Globy himself. Shadow13 hadn't minded for a while. However, after "The Creation of Man," had played seventeen times straight, it was far more than she could handle. So, alter egos in toe, she marched down the stairs, wrenched the door open, and demanded that Globy stop this at once.

But Globy wouldn't stop.

So, she'd asked a little more tenderly.

Nothing.

She made a few promises she had no intention of keeping.

The music still played.

She begged, she pleaded, she sobbed, she was on her hands and knees.

And still, Globy kept right on going.

She'd then demanded why Globy was doing this. The answer was a simple one; surprising, and yet frightening, and it had Shadow puzzled all afternoon:

Because Master said to do it.

"What are you talking about?" Shadow13 demanded. "I'm your master, and I never asked you to do something like this!" After a while, Globy stopped responding to the orders and pleas, and just kept right on playing musical hit after musical hit.

Shadow13 had locked herself in her computer room, head tucked between pillows to try and drown the noise out as "Macavity," played. No one else had that much luck. The only distraction was the Blakeneys; the music had made them both irritable, and they were constantly arguing. Shadow was trying to accomplish some chores when she noticed the crowd watching the two verbally duke it out.

"What's going on?" she asked, walking up to them. Erik silenced her, and Christine offered a bit of an explanation.

"They're fighting."

"What, again?" she'd exclaimed, exasperated. Now Raoul shushed her as they tried to listen through the deafening roar of the music.

"…..How dare you accuse me of being unfaithful when you're the one who tried to kiss another woman!" screamed Marguerite, making herself only just barely audible, fists clenched at her sides. "A married woman!" she added as an after thought.

"I was under an influence," protested Percy.

"And so was I! Yet I'm not the one accusing you of infidelities!"

"Yes, but the person I tried to kiss was decidedly more attractive than your choice!" He then pointed to Cosette, who blushed. Chauvelin, however, sat up, snarling.

"Hey!"

Valjean and Javert wheeled on them, fingers to their lips, and gave a loud "Shh!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You mean you don't remember?"

"Of course I don't remember, that was weeks ago, and I was intoxicated with fluff dust!"

Glaring, Sir Percy pointed to his French adversary, and said shortly "Chauvelin."

The silent look of shock an horror on Marguerite's face was truly priceless. The remark that followed was even better; Her face scrunched up and she gave a very long "Ewwww….."

Chauvelin was insulted again; "Hey! I'll have you know some people think me attractive."

"Yes, they're the ones who are clinically insane," replied Erik bitingly.

"You're one to talk, mask-boy!"

"Gentlemen, please!" Shadow quickly interceded as the two began to growl at each other. "Let's remain civil here! Sir Percy, Lady Blakeney, stop this at once!"

Lita had now stormed into the room, screaming. "I can't take it anymore! Somebody shut it off! Shadow, you do it, you're good with electronics."

"Thanks for the compliment," she replied, somewhat sarcastically, "but you know there's nothing I can do; Globy's not electronic. Still, it's rather funny, isn't it?"

"What's funny?" she snapped, slamming down into a chair and glaring daggers.

"He's never done this before, and no one can get him to stop, not even Emily. He just says that his master told him to, when she denies it stoically."

Lita leaned foreword. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know…." Replied Shadow, walking slowly from the room, lost in thought. "I just don't know."

…

Globy had shut himself off. Intrigued, Shadow went back down to the cellar and interrogated him. When asked why he'd done it, he'd said that his master had told him to.

Well, it made sense after all. I mean, Shadow13 had gone down there and demanded that he shut up. But why the delayed reaction? When pressed, Globy clammed up again, and whimpered.

"Come on, Globy, you can tell me," pushed Shadow sweetly. "I'm your friend, remember?"

"Globy can't make Master mad…….Bad for Globy….if tell."

Shadow leaned in very closely now. "Why is it bad for you, Globy?"

He didn't answer.

"Who told you to play that music?"

Still nothing.

"Who told you to turn it off?"

Globy had begged Shadow to go away, which he'd never done before, and wouldn't talk to anyone for almost a week afterwards.

**To Be Continued….**


	20. Chapter Sixteen

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Sixteen**

Every last one of the literary figures were at the edge of reason. Their nerves were nearly shattered. They spat, and snapped, and fought constantly, until the stress became almost too much to take. Finally, after a brawl that had ended up breaking a coffee table, cracking Javert's rib, and sent Marguerite to her room in tears, Shadow13 was fed up.

Everyone was locked into their room, and meals were delivered only by plot bunnies. This continued for five days before she finally thought up a solution. Shoving a camera into Lita's hands, she instructed her egos to make an educational film.

"Make it big, sappy, cute. I mean fluffy puppy cute, too. I want them to be so stuffed with adorable-ness that they won't even think of glaring at each other."

Ellen accepted the task with relish, but Lita and Shadow shot each other wary looks. "Uh….." protested the former.

"I'm not sure that will work," finished Shadow.

"Is it your job to question what I ask for you to do?"

"Well….no."

"Then don't question it."

Shadow gave up, took that camera, and stalked out of the castle to try and find the most cute spot she could.

Needless to say, the results were less than stirring. The camera was often tipped at odd angles, and went fuzzy whenever Shadow and Lita got into a fight over the directing. Still, Shadow gave an all night crack at trying to edit it, and it eventually fit onto a DVD at forty minutes long.

…

The home theater unit of the castle started with two basic, movie theater like doors. Upon entering it, you were confronted with your basic movie theater showing room, with several rows of folding seat chairs lined up from front to back, all facing the large, flat screen. It had surround sound, cup holders in the arm rests, all the latest theater technology. Most of the time, the bunnies used it to watch movies, and Shadow13 put it under Ellen's supervision to make sure they took the disc out when they were done, and put it back in the right place on the shelf (she was a stickler for alphabetizing.)

At four in the morning Shadow had finally finished editing their project, making it only just viewable. By four fifteen she was in her own room and out like a light. At four thirty, the person entered the A.V. room where Shadow had been editing the film. It was also where all the movies were kept, and where you put the disc in for it to show on the screen. There was a window so that the film monitor could watch as they kept an eye on the screening process.

The person hunted around along the desk and keyboard where Shadow had been working, and finally succeeded in finding what they were looking for: The case with the movie project in it marked "The Cuteness Experiment." Carefully, they opened the case and took the disk out, sliding another in. They were identical in their plain, silver coating and "Memorex™," printed in bold lettering on the side. Carefully, they hid the true movie disk behind a filing cabinet where papers and markers and other such things had fallen years before, never again to see the light of day.

Equally silent, they slinked out of the A.V. room and out the home theater system all together, locking the door behind them.

…

"Okay, let us go over a few simple rules before we begin," addressed an extremely groggy Shadow the next morning. The characters were all seated in the chairs in the home theater unit, most several feet away from each other. Shadow was so exhausted from her all-nighter that even the espresso wasn't helping. "Hands to yourselves. No funny business once the lights go out, romantic or otherwise." Sir Percy shouted "Drat!" and Shadow sent him a withering look. "Absolutely no death threats. Erik, no Punjab lassos!" She quickly confiscated the piece of rope he'd been diligently toying with. Erik began to pout. "Please remain seated after the film starts. Don't put your feet onto the chair of the person in front of you, even if it's empty. These things are expensive to replace." She paused, thinking everything over. "Well….I guess that's it. I hope you guys enjoy it."

"Not bloody likely," whispered Javert, crossing his arms and sinking into his red velvet chair. Shadow quickly stalked out of the theater, closing the doors behind her, and up the stairs into the A.V. room where Lita and Ellen were already waiting.

"Everyone have their fingers crossed on this?" Lita asked as Shadow slid into the swivel chair next to the operating system.

"Should I cross my eyes for extra luck?" Ellen inquired while Lita smacked her palm to her forehead, groaning.

Groggily, Shadow snatched up the disc case, and opened it with a "click!" and slid the silver DVD in. The lights dimmed, the screen began showing the film, whilst the literary characters stared in absolutely wonder.

The screen, still black, lit up with simple, blue lettering: "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away….."

"Ohh…." Lita praised. "Hey, kudos on the editing job if it isn't plagiarizing, Shadow."

Exhausted, confused, Shadow leaned slightly forward in her seat. "I….I don't remember doing that."

With a bang, the fanfare started (which was also odd, since the movie had no score) and the large title "Star Wars," flashed upon the screen.

"Okay, now I think you're starting to infringe on George Lucas' territory."

Shadow had now stood up. "Seriously, Lita….I didn't do this." They looked at each other as fear flashed across their faces, and both simultaneously shouted "Shit!"

Racing down the hall way, the egos tripped through the stairs and raced to the doors. They tugged at the handles, pounding furiously, shouting like mad.

"For the love of God, open up!" Shadow cried, fists assaulting the door mercilessly.

"It's no use!" wailed Lita mournfully. "The doors lock once the movie starts to keep people from entering while the film is going."

Shadow had seized Ellen by the shoulders and was now shaking mercilessly. "Do you know what we've done? Do you understand what this means?" Clueless, Ellen shook her head no. "It means we've introduced them to pop culture! We're dead ducks once Emily hears about this!" She'd released her comrade, slumping against the door and howling "Noooooo!" Shadow had pounced upon Ellen again. "How many times have I told you to make sure Steve and his friends put the movies back when they're done?"

"But, Shadow, Steve wasn't watching Star Wars, honest!"

"Wait, wait, calm down!" Lita shouted, for once in more control than Shadow. "Why is this such a problem?"

"Think carefully," seethed the other girl. "People from eighteenth and nineteenth century France are now, at this moment, being bombarded with a movie classic from 1977."

Lita stared at her clueless. "Okay, other than the seventies just being an all out messed up time period, I still don't see the problem."

"Merde, Lita, don't you get it? They don't even know what a movie is! They don't know that none of that is real!"

Ellen looked crushed. "Ewoks aren't real?"

Shadow continued unperturbed. "I mean, that's almost as bad as letting them listen to rap music."

"Correction," said the DragonRider. "Rap isn't music."

"Fair enough."

"First Santa and now the little, fuzzy Ewoks?"

"Ellen, let the Ewoks go," advised Lita. Ellen had broken into tears, while Shadow was smacking her head against the door and swearing in various languages. "Look," calmed Lita, "It's a two hour movie. What's done is done. We can't get them out, we'll just calmly explain to them all of that stuff. We wait two hours, the doors unlock, we herd them out; Emily doesn't even have to know."

"That's deceitful," snarled Shadow.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her, whilst what she does know will hurt us."

Shadow thought it over carefully, and finally nodded, sighing. "Okay, let's go get something to eat and come back."

**To Be Continued….**


	21. Chapter Seventeen

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Seventeen**

**A.N.: Here I am, FINALLY updating. Sorry for the long absence, guys!**

Two hours passed, and the three alter egos strolled somewhat nervously back to the home theater system. They could hear the music slowly fade as the film ended. Flashing a wide, relieved grin, Shadow tugged on the door.

Nothing happened.

Panicked gripped the three girls as they pounded relentlessly, crying piteously. Too late. The fanfare had started up again, and after fifteen minutes of patient pounding, they could hear lines from "The Empire Strikes Back."

Shadow had slumped against the door crying "Nooooo!  
Lita was staring slack jawed. "I don't believe it….how did they fit the entire trilogy on one DVD?"

"Oh, does this mean I get to see the part with Yoda?" Ellen asked, clapping her hands excitedly.

"No! No Yoda!" Shadow had fiercely denied. "No one gets Yoda!"

Lita snorted. "Try telling them that," she scoffed with a nod in the theater's direction.

"This isn't happening," the black clad girl wailed. "This is a nightmare!"

"You never let me do anything fun!" Ellen was crying.

"Oh, both of you, shut up!" ordered Lita, fuming. "There's nothing we can do about it, so we'll just have to wait until 'Return of the Jedi,' is over with. And hope the prequels aren't attached."

…

Wow. Just…wow.

That was the only thing to be gotten out of the characters as they were herded out of the theater, Shadow scowling. They jabbered about the movie endlessly until Shadow finally gathered up what it was she was trying to say.

"It's not real."

Everyone turned and stared at her, befuddled.

"But how can it not be?" Erik asked, confused. "It was all so-"

"Actors," she cut him off. "They're just…actors."

Marguerite glanced behind her shoulder briefly. "Are you sure? If so, they were excellent! That 'Leia,' girl might be a better actress than I am."

If the movie had accomplished anything, it was that it had put all of the characters into a better mood. That was something, anyway.

Percy had wrapped his arms around Marguerite's waist, cooing in a rather disgusting manner.

"Darling, there's no one that's a better actress than you."

"Sweetheart," she laughed.

"Angel."

"Cupcake."

"Muffin."

"Sugar kitten."

"Si-"

"Okay, that's it," declared Chauvelin, several people with rather disgusted expressions on their face. "I'm going to go throw up now!"

"Yeah, me too…" agreed Shadow.

Lita remained puzzled. "Sugar kitten?"

Ellen, however, was busily chatting with Christine. "What was your favorite part? Aren't the Ewoks cute?"

…

"Stop it!"

Emily cracked her skull against he computer desk. Groaning, she backed up, begging "Please…" only to do it a second time. Collapsing to the ground, she shuddered. "What is it that you want?"

She trembled, blood pouring from her nose as she coughed and shook. "I don't understand this. What do you want me to do?" The black plot bunny – which sat patiently on her computer chair – silently replied. "But….but I don't know how!"

It shook its head.

"Honestly, I can't help you!"

Its eyes narrowed, and Shadow13 groaned as she smacked her forehead against the smooth flooring. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as well as blood, and she coughed violently. "Alright…you win…I'll do it…I'll do anything, just make it stop!"

The black creature seemed satisfied with this, as it hopped off the chair and toward the girl's head. She cried out piteously as it wriggled its way into her ear, and clutched at her head, which ached massively.

It said something to her, and she nodded mutely. "Tomorrow. I'll do it tomorrow."

Satisfied, she rose and grabbed a towel draped over the chair, rubbing gently at her face. Eyes glazed over, she emotionlessly repeated "Tomorrow….And then it's over with?" The evil plot bunny seemed to agree to that. "And then it's over with."

Shuddering, she collapsed into the chair vacated by the demon rabbit, starting to cry. "I'm afraid….I don't want to hurt anyone." But then, she didn't want to be hurt herself. And she'd been taking the blows – literally – for everyone. Maybe the bunny was right, and maybe she should start delivering a few blows herself. After all, it was only fair.

A gong sounded throughout the castle, and she rose, stretching, feeling enormously better.

"It's dinner time," she said to no one in particular. "The last dinner time I'll have to put up with you in my head," she now told the plot bunny. It asked her a question. "No, I won't miss you a bit. Not a bit." Another question. "Them? Well….maybe just a little….But you're right, of course, you're always right. The world will be so much better. _I'll_ be so much better." She gingerly tapped at her head, which was swelling slightly. "Physically, socially, and emotionally." Still trying to convince herself, she said "It is for the best."

Taking a look around the room, entirely out of nerves, she finally walked to the door and opened it. The gong sounded again, and she irately called "I'm coming, I'm coming! Hold your horses, jeeze!"

She either didn't notice, or chose to ignore, the low cackling that sounded in her skull.

**To Be Continued…**


	22. Chapter Eighteen

**When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Eighteen**

**A.N.: And yet another long time without updates. Sorry, guys! But thus begins the exciting conclusion! Hopefully. I mean, I hope its exciting…right…**

The next morning had begun quite innocently. Everyone had had a melancholy breakfast together, and for no other reason than a good humor, Shadow13 had requested that Javert take a stroll around the blooming garden with her. He, of course, was not allowed to refuse.

"…And I'm thinking of having Wisteria vines put in next summer!" she chirped happily.

"I'm sorry," he said dryly, "but I _really _don't care ab-"

"But that's all the small talk I have time for," she said, voice dropping in pitch slightly, and he cast he an odd look.

"What…" he began, but she had fallen against the small stone wall, shivering slightly. In a moment she stood straight up again and smiled, while Javert stared at her with a rather frightened look on his face. "I'm really confused…"

"Don't worry," said a voice that was most certainly not hers. "It'll only get worse from here."

Picking up a stone from the wall, she tossed it at him, cracking him neatly against the skull and knocking him completely out.

…

"Chore detail, form ranks!"

Groaning, the characters collected themselves and formed lines while Shadow pulled out the roll clip board as Lita and Ellen perused the list of chores.

"Erik?"

"Here."

"Christine?"

"Present!"

"Raoul?"

"Unfortunately."

"Javert."

Silence.

"Javert?"

Nothing. Bewildered, the characters looked about themselves in search of the inspector.

Shadow put the clip board down, hands on her hips. "Where the hell's Javert?" When no answer was forthcoming, she turned to her two compatriots. "Ellen, when was the last time you saw Javert?"

Ellen thought a moment before saying in a very chipper manner, "This morning at breakfast!"

"Well, where is he now?"

"He went to go take a walk with Emily," Lita chimed in, puzzling over it for a moment. "But she came back from it a half an hour ago."

Shadow sighed and rubbed at her temples. "Alright, we better go find him. You lot just hang around here until we get back."

…

"I'm telling you, he wouldn't be in the gaming room, he's not-"

"Put he might be playing Extreme Pong! Nobody can resist that!"

"I can."

"It's addicting!"

The voices outside the door woke the inspector from his concussion induced sleep and he groaned as his eyes opened and dilated.

"Fine!" one voice cried – he believed it to be Shadow – "We'll look in the bloody game room!"

The door opened and in marched the three alter egos, two of whom looked rather annoyed at having to conduct the search in the first place.

"Why are all the lights off?" asked Lita.

"I'll find the switch!" Ellen cried, tearing across the room and smacking straight into the inspector's leg, sending her sprawling forward with a cry.

"What the?"

"Hold on…" Shadow unclipped a small utility flashlight from her belt and flicked it on scanning the room. She cried out when the beam fell on the slightly bloodied inspector tied to the leg of a desk with Ellen laying next to him, and almost dropped the light. "Good God, what are you doing like that!"

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me?" he snarled. "And not shout, my head is killing me."

"I don't like this," Lita muttered, rubbing her arms and pawing her way to the light switch. She flipped it…and nothing happened. She tried again, but still to no avail. "Okay, I really don't like this."

And then the door shut all on its own as all the girls gave a terrified scream.

"I think for once I agree with you, Lita," Shadow whimpered.

"What are all you guys doing in here?" came Emily's voice from the shadowed corners of the room, and the three egos instantly relaxed.

"Oh, it's only you, Emily."

"Are you alright?" Lita demanded. "What's going on, why is Javert-"

"All in good time," she promised, unclipping something from her belt. There was a click like a hammer on a gun being drawn back, and they all froze. "But for now, why don't you all sit down. I brought some rope, you can hang out with Javert."

Ellen burst into tears as Lita cried, "Are you insane? What's going on!"

Shadow tried to lunge for her, but her creator merely smacked her upside the head with the but of the gun, sending her down onto the floor with a crash. "Does anyone else want to try?" she demanded, and whimpering, the other two shook their heads. "Good. Now, I've got a lot of work to do, so…" the voice suddenly began to change, deepen in pitch, and in a voice that was distinctly not Emily's, said, "So you all just sit tight, alright? Ha! I crack myself up, even when I'm cracking people's skulls!"

Shadow gasped as she clawed her way backwards toward the extremely confused police inspector. "The black plot bunny!"

Lita and Ellen hit the floor as the possessed girl came closer, brandishing her weapon and her rope. "Yes, the black plot bunny, but you never thought of that, did you?" He mercilessly bound them together, tightening the rope to the point where it was hard to breathe and knotting it fiercely. "No worries, my dears, I'm not going to hurt you. At least not yet. That would not be conducive to my master scheme."

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
